


it comes down to the final moment

by bototyelenol



Series: snake eyes [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, ベイブレードバースト | Beyblade Burst (Anime)
Genre: After Homecoming, Anime Logic, Beyblade Burst - Freeform, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It’s a lot lmao, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Marvel Universe, Multi, No Infinity War or Endgame, No Smut, Non OC characters are probably ooc, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Theodore Glass is an asshole, Tony is my oc’s dad in this, ahhh I probably will regret properly tagging this bc, and so my friend could read it, beyblade - Freeform, beyblade burst evolution, beyblade burst turbo, but I mean yknow, but not civil war compliant, especially beyblade tho, im mostly putting this here for organizational purposes, its a beyblade and marvel crossover bc fuck u, like im serious this is an OC fic, m/m/m/m polyamory, ppl might read it n im scared lmao, the timeline is gonna be fucked, with beyblade or marvel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-01-22 15:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 42,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bototyelenol/pseuds/bototyelenol
Summary: Patience is a virtue that bladers didn’t possess. Their drive and determination to win made them abrasive and restless. They were, after all, human. They were humans who made human mistakes and went through typical human things. They moved countries, got possessed, took down beyblade mafias, went through parental deaths, threw major tournaments, and had immense boy trouble; though, they weren’t necessarily in that order.Or a dumb beyblade/marvel crossover that the author couldn’t get out of his head for months and finally wrote
Series: snake eyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535912
Comments: 23
Kudos: 3





	1. no more

**Author's Note:**

> We love self indulgence uwu  
I’m shit at writing but I did this anyways  
Idk why you’re reading this
> 
> I originally had all of the flashback things italicized but ao3 didn’t like that so I had to go back and put the separation marks, sorry if I missed any lmao

Being thirty-five thousand feet in the air for seven and a half hours really put things into perspective. There wasn’t much you could actually do thirty-five thousand feet in the air. It gave you time to discuss your thoughts with yourself. Your thoughts become the anchor of sanity in a narrow ship full of screaming children, unfiltered air, and movies full of fruitless tragedies.

And it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Wisps of white clouds passed by in slow motion, swimming in the sea of blues and yellows as the blinding sun woke from its long slumber. It was mostly silent, only the occasional quiet chatter from awake patrons and the hypnotic humming from the motor could be heard. 

Most people were still fast asleep, neck pillows and fluffy blankets simulating the bed that they no doubt dearly missed. Those not sleeping were in their own version of a dream world, waiting out the last stretch of the flight. 

Despite the situation being rather commonplace, anxious energy buzzed beneath the skin of Daiichi Wren as he shifted in his seat. His legs ached horribly from the way they were forced to be bent awkwardly within the tight confines between his chair and the one in front of him. He had long since removed his black and white BC Sol lettermen, the thick jacket left him sweating despite the freezing air within the plane.

He desperately craved to be anywhere but trapped in between an overly cheery social worker and a senile old woman who liked to talk about her grandchildren and smelled strongly of strawberry shortcake. Every part of him screamed to leave. His black t-shirt felt too rough against his skin, his ripped jeans too tight, his combat boots too bulky and heavy. He usually reveled in his observation skills and hyper awareness of everything around him but, in that moment, it seemed more like a curse instead of a blessing.

Wren sighed wearily, checking the music playlist on his phone with one hand and adjusting his over-ear headphones with the other. He welcomed the upbeat rhythm and memorable melody, quietly singing along to the Japanese lyrics. He usually wasn’t one for any kind of pop music but he had a soft spot for the J-pop star, Zac the Sunrise. Zac was apart of the top four bladers in Japan for a couple of years and being apart of the Supreme Four had the perk of meeting and battling powerful bladers, Wren being one of them. It was a mutual respect that warped into a close friendship with each member of the Supreme Four, regardless of music taste. 

Zac’s voice was soft and familiar, brimming with passion and theatrics. He battled just like he sang, enthusiastically and full of heart. He was dramatic and irritating at times but Wren had a lot of respect for him and missed him dearly. He missed all of the Supreme Four members, and all of their seperate friend groups.

Wren was often regarded as a floater by Zac. He’d float from social group to social group, all depending on where he was and what he was doing. He wasn’t close to a lot of the bladers that he socialized with, preferring to stand in the background and battle when necessary, but they all had grown on him in their own separate ways and he liked being around them, all of them. He was going to miss them like hell.

It was different when he was scouted for BC Sol. Going to Spain felt more like an adventure and he knew that he could always go back home. His current travel to America felt more like he was on his way to be executed or exiled from his own country. Once he landed, once he stepped foot in America, his could no longer say that Japan, or even Spain, was his home.

—

“So, this is the famous BC Sol,” Wren said, eyes trailing over each blader in the training room. “How nice.”

Kristina Kuroda stood next him with a smile on her face. “Team, I would like to introduce our newest recruit; this is Daiichi Wren. He’s from Japan and I really think he could give this team the push it needs before the World Leagues.”

Wren halfheartedly waved with one hand, the other gripping his backpack strap. Most of the team looked either intrigued or annoyed and Wren couldn’t help but smirk a bit. It was obvious that his reputation hadn’t spread to other parts of the world.

“Is he any good?” a monotone voice called out. Wren looked to his left to see a boy leaning against the wall. He looked vaguely familiar but Wren couldn’t place it. He had fluffy blonde hair with a dyed red bit in the front and he had a small, uninterested frown on his face. He looked bored.

“Yes, Free, he is,” Kristina answered, “I scouted him out myself and Trad agrees that Daiichi is an exceptional blader.”

Trad, the BC Sol BeyTrainer, nodded from where he stood on the other side of Kristina. The boy, Free, sauntered forward, his body shuffling awkwardly like he was forcing it to move. He stood in front of Wren, his dark brown eyes almost black in color. There was spark of fiery amber around his pupil, almost glowing. 

“Can you prove it?”

—

“Daiichi,” Ms. Wilma pushed back his headphones, snapping him out of his thoughts. Wren physically cringed as her long, hot pink nails clicked against the plastic. 

He jerked away from her, “Don’t fucking touch me or my things.”

Ms. Wilma frowned apologetically but continued to talk quietly. “Language, please, Daiichi. We’re going to land soon and I figured that it would be good to debrief you on what’s going to happen.”

Wren shifted in his chair so he was facing her and pulled off his headphones. “Okay, I guess.”

Ms. Wilma seemed pleased at his response. It didn’t surprise him; he’d done nothing but ignore her completely since she’d come to pick him up an hour before the flight. Ms. Wilma actually seemed like a nice lady. She was a middle aged, small and petite woman with long brown hair and olive skin. She had an aura of professionalism about her with the way she held herself confidently but she also seemed quirky and unique with her hot pink nails, floral high heels, and gigantic baby pink, leather purse that she lugged around on her shoulder. 

None of it stopped Wren from hating her.

“Once we land, we’re going to get your things and meet your father at his compound. He would meet us at the airport but he doesn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention.”

Wren hummed noncommittally, “Because he’s some famous guy or whatever, right?”

“Heh, that’s an understatement. Tony Stark is one of the the richest men in the world and he’s an actual superhero. That’s way more than just ‘some famous guy’,” Ms. Wilma said with a soft smile, “Anyways, you’ll be settling in and I’ll be back within a week’s time to review your wellbeing and make sure that it’s beneficial for you to be staying with him.”

“And if it’s not?”

“We’ll attempt to track down any other family members you may have but, if we can’t, you’ll be placed in foster care.”

Wren sighed loudly and leaned his head backwards, “None of this would even be a problem if the bitch just left my name out of her will.”

“Daiichi, that’s rude!” Ms. Wilma chastised, “You shouldn’t speak about your mother like that.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Wren said, struggling to keep his voice down. “She barely even deserves the title of my mother. She gave that up the second she threw me on the side of the road like I was a dog that she didn’t want anymore. I don’t understand how a woman who had abandoned me and hadn’t seen me for thirteen years can control my life like this-“

“Because you’re a minor who was born in Brooklyn and smuggled to Japan where you flew completely under the radar for over a decade. You have to be under the care of an adult,” Ms. Wilma pinched the bridge of her nose with an exasperated look on her face. 

“Like hell I’ve been under the radar. I’ve been on national television more times than I can count. I’m basically a household name among bladers and I literally moved to a different country that wasn’t even in the Asias. I did all of that by myself, without an adult. I’m sixteen, not six. I can and have handled myself. This entire thing is bullshit.”

“I understand your frustration,” Ms. Wilma said slowly, “But you have to understand that you’re now a ward of the state of New York and as such, you have to abide by the laws of New York and the United States of America. Those laws say that, even if you’ve been on your own, you must be under the care of a legal adult. I’m sorry that it took this long for anyone to notice, but now that we have, we can’t leave you to your own devices.”

She then took a deep breath and resumed smiling, almost as if nothing was wrong at all. Wren grit his teeth and scowled. The hollow feeling in his chest was quickly being replaced by anger. 

“I should warn you, Daiichi, that your father’s home is very... peculiar,” Ms. Wilma said, “Mr. Stark lives at this compound with a group of other people called the Avengers and they’re all very interesting people with very interesting abilities. It may take some time for you to get used to them but I genuinely believe that you’ll thrive in such an environment.”

Wren didn’t respond. He didn’t care about the Avengers or about his father. He found success by himself. He grew up by himself. He became strong by himself. He didn’t need them to thrive. 

“Do you have any other questions about anything? How to navigate New York or maybe specifics over your new home?”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to navigate New York. I’ve been to New York, and California, half a dozen times. I know the culture, I know the language, I know the state. I’ve spent a good majority of my life traveling, I don’t need advice or you to answer my questions. It’s not that fucking hard,” Wren growled, shoving his headphones back over his head. “But since you’re offering, when am I going to go back to Spain? I technically stay there for educational purposes so there’s nothing keeping me from returning.”

Ms. Wilma seemed taken aback by his outburst. “Daiichi, please, there are people sleeping. I don’t mind you venting your anger out on me or reviling the situation, even if it’s extreme, but be mindful of other people.”

“I don’t know what reviling means,” Wren muttered, crossing his arms and shifting in his seat. The ache in his legs traveled up his spine. 

Ms. Wilma visibly softened, “It’s kind of like criticizing but in an angry or insulting way. As for your other question, that’s not something that I can give a definitive answer to. In the end, it’s up to your father and the legal system. Until everything gets sorted and your father gives the green light, you won’t be able to leave the country for visiting purposes, let alone staying for a semi permanent amount of time.”

Wren nodded slowly, slumping his shoulders and curling in on himself. He should have known not to ask questions that he didn’t want the answers to. 

Ms. Wilma had enough sense to leave him alone after that. 

The rest of the flight went by in a blur of J-pop songs. The seemingly endless sea of buildings and skyscrapers could be seen through the small airplane window. The people of New York were beginning their days traveling through rat infested subways and going to work at jobs that didn’t pay enough. New York was a magical place full of dreamers, geniuses, and a bountiful history, but it was also a place full of cold nights, broken spirits, and lost children.

—

“Shu, why won’t you talk to me?!” Wren called out, stumbling forward as he ran after the other boy. “What happened to you, Shu?! How could you join them?!”

Shu kept walking, ignoring Wren completely. Wren pushed himself to speed up, grass being torn after each step. He caught up to Shu and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him backwards. “What the hell, man?” Wren snapped, his panic manifesting itself more and more as Shu continued to stay silent. 

“What?” Shu finally spoke.

“What did he do to you, Shu?” Wren asked, his voice cracking. 

“Shu is gone,” Shu said, turning to walk away.

“No,” Wren whispered. “No, he’s not! You’re right here, Shu, with me. You’re Shu Kurenai and you’re one of the best bladers I’ve ever met. You taught me to bond with my bey and to strive for greatness. Just like you and Spryzen did Don’t let him take that from you!” Wren was shouting. 

Shu stopped and looked over his shoulder, his eyes blazing.

“Shu is no more. I am Red Eye.”

—

Wren let out a groan as he stood up, stretching his legs and pulling on his lettermen slowly. Ms. Wilma watched him with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Daiichi, maybe next time we can get a seat with more leg room.”

They grabbed their carryon bags, Wren stuffing his headphones into his backpack, and went with the crowd into the cold and noisy airport. Muffled announcements were lost in the disorganized conversations of hundreds of people. Stressed out families rushed across the sleek floors, passports in one hand and small children in the other. 

Wren looked around, his entire body felt sluggish and stiff. The bright lights and general whiteness of the airport hurt his eyes and gave him a throbbing headache. He was riddled with exhaustion, cursing his inability to sleep on airplanes. Wren let out a silent yawn and adjusted his grip on his navy blue roller backpack. 

“Alrighty,” Ms. Wilma said, cheerfully clapping her hands. “Let’s go find your suitcases and then-“ she paused as she took out her phone from her purse and fiddled with it. “Ah, yes! Mr. Stark has sent for us to be picked up by one of his personal drivers so we won’t have to worry about getting a cab.”

“Wonderful,” Wren said impassively, rubbing his eyes as he followed behind Ms. Wilma to the baggage reclaim.

A tedious ten minutes later and Wren was thankful to find that everything had gone smoothly with his belongings. Being an experienced air travel veteran, Wren had long since uniquely decorated his luggage with stickers and patches that he’d gotten on his trips, making it much easier to find his things amongst the dozens of boringly similar cases and duffle bags. Wren pushed back the handle on his backpack and slid it over his shoulders with ease. He then took one of his suitcases and extended that handle so it could roll behind him while Ms. Wilma took the other without complaint.

They navigated through the herds of people and turned around more times than Wren would like but they eventually found themselves in the hot and humid outside. Ms. Wilma looked about as relieved as Wren felt. New Yorkers walked the streets, almost making more noise than the honks of traffic.

Wren looked up, feeling unbearably small among the sky high buildings. 

They continued walking around until they found themselves in front of a black car with a man in front of it, holding a sign with Ms. Wilma’s name on it. Wren supposed it would be smart not to put his full name out for anyone to see. He didn’t know how big Japanese and Spanish bladers were in America but he’d prefer not to get ambushed by baby bladers at eight in the morning. 

The man threw the sign into the backseat as he noticed them approaching. Ms. Wilma smiled and sped up, her heels clicking loudly against the concrete. 

“Happy Hogan; we spoke on the phone. Tony Stark sent for me to drive you to the Avengers compound,” the man introduced, shaking Ms. Wilma’s hand and nodding his head politely towards Wren. 

He was a large, burly man who was around the same height as Wren and built like a wall. He had some scruff on his chin and upper lip and his hair was glistening with product, probably hair spray. He wore black sunglasses, smudged from use, and an expensive looking suit. He looked more like a bodyguard than a chafferer.

“You must be the kid, right? What’s your name again?”

Wren resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Daiichi. Now can we go? I’m jet lagged to hell and back and would prefer if I wasn’t standing outside of a loud fucking airport when I pass out.”

Happy had an unamused look on his face but nodded nonetheless. He took Wren’s backpack and suitcases and put them in the popped trunk.

“I’m sorry about him,” Ms. Wilma said, “He’s just tired. I promise, he’s not always like this.”

Wren flipped her off with a sarcastic smile as he slid into the backseat of the car. It was nicer than most of the vehicles that Wren had been it. It had that new car smell and didn’t seem to have a speck of dirt or dust anywhere. The black, authentic leather seats were cushioned and comfortable despite obviously not being broken in. It was almost as if Tony Stark had bought a new car specifically for this occasion.

Which, if he’s a billionaire, he probably did.

“I’ve dealt with worse from Tony,” Happy said, closing Wren’s door and opening the passenger door for Ms. Wilma. 

She said her thanks and sat down, looking around the car in awe. She gently ran her hands over the dashboard, the seat, and the roof of the car. Ms. Wilma took a deep breath through her nose and smiled.

Wren forcefully coughed into his fist, holding back a snicker. Ms. Wilma snapped out of her admiration and twisted her body so she could look at Wren with a serious look on her face. “Listen, I know that this is all inconvenient and really frustrating but could you please work with me here? Staying with your father is the best thing for you right now and first impressions, in this case, are extremely important. Please, Daiichi, just be nice for a couple of hours, at least.”

Wren scoffed. “What’s the point in being nice? I don’t give a damn if he likes me or not. This whole thing is only- uh, fuck. What’s the word? What’s English for ichiji-teki?” Wren closed his eyes in thought. “Temporal? No, that’s Spanish, I think. Temporary! There we go. This shit’s temporary until I can go back to Spain, or Japan if this thing runs into off-season.”

“I understand your point of view and agree that the idea of first impressions are stupid in general,” Ms. Wilma said, her voice calm. He knew she was a patient woman, she had to be in her line of work, but it still unnerved Wren immensely. “However, that’s not the point. You’re making things harder on yourself by being difficult. If you play nice, it’ll be much more pleasant for you in the long run, understand? We just want to help you, Daiichi.”

Happy got into the car while she spoke and turned on the radio. Country music started playing in the car, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to be talked over. He started driving through the heavy traffic around the airport, unsubtly listening in. 

“Help me? You’re trying to help me? Yeah, because dragging me to New York of all places is so helpful. Even if I actually needed your help, you fucks are doing nothing but ruining everything. You’d help me more if you just left me alone and ignored the dying wish of my neglectful mother who didn’t give a damn about me anyways.”

Ms. Wilma sighed through her nose with pursed lips. She turned back around in her seat and ran a hand through her hair. She looked genuinely upset by Wren’s stubbornness. He didn’t understand why. He was just another job for her, another paycheck. Was she upset because he wasn’t making things easy for her?

Happy stayed silent through the entire exchange but kept glancing at Wren through the rearview mirror. Wren ignored him completely and leaned backwards. He dug into his front pockets and took out his bey, Chaos Durago. It would usually be in its case on his blading belt but his belt was uncomfortable to wear on long flights so he kept it in his pocket instead. It left him constantly checking to make sure it was still there but it was better to keep it on his person, rather than in a bag or suitcase.

He stared at his bey, looking over the intricacies of the energy layer. The turquoise and blue colors adoring the entire bey complimented each other beautifully. He stared into the dark blue eyes of the dragon head in the center. It made him feel warm and fuzzy. The connection was strong and enveloped his entire being. It was the spirit of the bey with the spirit of its blader. Powerful, vibrant, intimate. He was unstoppable with Durago. They were an unbreakable force and they worked hard to get as strong as they were. They’d been through so much together and Wren honestly didn’t know where he’d be without Durago. It was his anchor, his rock. It kept him focused and it kept him from backing down. It made him whole.

Durago made him who he was. 

Wren pulled out a silky white cloth from his other pocket and began to thoroughly go over Durago’s three main parts. He wiped over Durago’s energy layer, going over the frill on either side of the dragon head. He carefully polished the grooves and bumps of the metal forge disc, not bothering with the four light purple, rubber protuberances on the frame. The rubber was beginning to wear down from continuous use and Wren knew he had to replace that part of the disc soon. Even the rubber, pale sea foam colored teeth surrounding the round blue tip were beginning to wear down from Wren’s continuous training. He frowned at the shattered performance tip and crack down the underside of the energy layer. Durago was badly damaged and desperately needed repairs. Wren had pushed it too hard in his battle with Free and ended up losing more than just the match.

“Sorry pal,” Wren mumbled, putting Durago back together and stuffing the white cloth back into his pocket. Durago gleamed in the sunlight, the apology accepted.

—

Sweat dripped down the side of Wren’s face. The bright spotlights radiated scorching heat and made Wren feel like steam was coming off of his skin. He was breathing hard and exhaustion was beginning to wear down on him. 

He was the lasting BC Sol representative in a tournament meant to ease bey fans’ impatience regarding the World League. According to the rules, each world team would send in two representatives who would fight in individual matches. Each match would be fought by both bladers. In order to claim the match, you had to win against both members of the opposite team. If one team member is beaten, they are disqualified and the other member continues on. Wren and Silas had been chosen for Spain, the decision ultimately being swayed by Free, who had originally been chosen instead of Wren.

The tournament held no water despite being official and WBBA produced. There was no title or real prize but after BC Sol’s surprising win in the previous year’s World League, Wren had to keep up the hype and respect for his team. He couldn’t afford to lose when his team’s reputation was on the line, especially after Free vouched for him. He had to prove that it wasn’t a fluke. He had to prove that he was worth Free’s word.

Silas had been eliminated three rounds prior, hitting a wall in their first battle against Xander and Ren Wu, representing Brazil. Wren was disappointed that Silas lost but he felt pride for his blood brother, Xander, for advancing. Unfortunately, this left Wren on his own to defend the honor of BC Sol. 

Wren had managed to claw his way to the finals, fighting strenuous battles one after another. He was pinned up against the best in the world, a lot of which were his friends. After he went against Xander and Ren Wu, he went face to face with Ghasem and Arthur, representing England, and defeated them both with a burst finish. In the semifinals, he went against his friends Daigo and Clio, representing France. He won against them both in heated battles that backed him into a corner more than once. Each one faced a different challenge but Wren had defeated them all singlehandedly.

He had made it to the finals and it seemed like a repeat of the previous World League: Spain versus America. Only this time, it was Wren fighting for the win instead of Valt. 

His opponent and old friend, Norman Tarver, was a point ahead and Wren was putting in everything he had. His energy was running low and Durago was beginning to slow down. It wouldn’t last much longer. Wren had to do something and he had to do it fast.

His eyes were trained on the stadium in front of him, the darkness blanketing the audience made it impossible to look anywhere else. He could hear the cheers of his teammates above everyone. It brought a smile to his face. He had to win this and make them proud.

“Noctemis, Colossus Hammer!” Norman called out, swinging his arm.

Wren grit his teeth as Noctemis went straight for Durago. “That’s not gonna happen! Durago, Chaos Defense!”

Durago sped to the center, narrowly missing a head on collision with Noctemis. The four teeth around the performance tip lowered, millimeters from touching the ground. The frills on the energy layer shifted back to their original place, compact against the dragon head. It glowed a teal color as the bey steadied itself. Wren knew that Durago was the ultimate defense bey and once it got into position, it was virtually impossible to budge. It was Wren’s only option. If Durago’s defense somehow gave out, they were going to lose and that wasn’t an option. Wren had to believe in his bey. 

“One more time; Noctemis! Colossus Hammer!” Norman growled out.

Noctemis flung itself towards Durago, hitting it loudly as the metal forge discs collided. The two beys pushed against each other, fighting to move the other. Sparks flew from where they connected. There was an explosion of power and, suddenly, Durago burst through Noctemis, the latter clattering on the stadium floor in three pieces. Durago wobbled in the center, it’s spin slowing for a few seconds until it finally came to a stop. 

Norman had an angry yet pained look on his face. Wren didn’t blame him, he was so close to winning. Norman was a respectable blader in terms of intellect and pure power but he was an asshole and Wren didn’t feel bad for him in the slightest. 

“Chaos Durago with a burst finish!” the referee announced, raising his left arm. “Daiichi Wren wins the battle with a score of 2-1. He is the winner of the Duel Team Tournament.”

The crowd went wild. Loud cheers and screams filled the arena as people applauded Wren’s win. He could hear his friends calling his name and yelling out praises. Norman had long since taken Noctemis and walked off, no doubt to report his failure. Wren kneeled down, reached over the stadium walls, and picked up Durago. He grinned down at it as it reflected the spotlights, not a scratch made on it. He knew what Durago was trying to say. 

They did it; they won.

—

Wren gripped Durago tightly in his hand, feeling the dragon’s spirit humming contently in the back of his head. He almost missed the small smile on Ms. Wilma’s face as she watched him in the rearview mirror. Wren sent her a look of irritation that he wasn’t sure she got and leaned his head against the window, tiredly watching the city pass as the glass vibrated against his head. 

New York was a beautiful city and had the desired aesthetic for modern youth. There was appeal in living in an industrial apartment near Times Square, attending Broadway shows at night and eating until you die as you stand utterly awestruck at the bright lights of the city. It was a dream of unlikely possibility and Wren knew better than to hopelessly pin your unlikely dreams on a place like New York.

Wren spent the better part of the hour long drive dozing in and out of consciousness. He vaguely heard Ms. Wilma and Happy quietly talking in the front but he didn’t catch what they were saying. He let himself be lulled by the country songs playing in the background and the smooth movements of the car.

Wren had barely blinked before they were pulling into a cluster of different buildings connected by roads. Wren could see people scattered around, doing whatever their job was. Some were talking to people in suits, some were driving around in golf carts, or what looked like golf carts, and others were marching around as military trainers and trainees. The grass was green and the trees were greener, it almost looked fake. He’d seen pictures of the compound on Google but it seemed much more striking and intimidating in person.

“We’re here,” Happy said, as they pulled into a road that circled a grey jet and parked in front of the central building in the compound. 

Wren’s breath hitched as he opened the car door. The boxy front had an overhang that cast a massive shadow over the concrete foundation. Windows filled the rounded front, a blue ‘A’ logo on the side. The building continued downwards diagonally until it hit the ground. To Wren, it looked like the white top layer was leaning on the smaller, darker layer beneath it. Windows were placed around the sides, including along the long add-on on the top.

Wren closed the car door and used the hand holding Durago to shade his face as he looked up, surveying how high the building went.

As incredible as it looked, the modernistic style of the building sent shivers down Wren’s spine. Flashes of the Raging Bulls’ training facility filled his mind. If you made it taller and added more windows, it would be a carbon copy. It didn’t help that both were in New York. Reasonably, he knew the similarities were mostly due to American architecture and preference to design but he couldn’t shake the growing feeling of dread. 

“Wow, this is amazing,” he heard Ms. Wilma breathe as she stepped out of the car.

—

“Isn’t it amazing, Wren?” Ashtem put his hand on Wren’s back to guide him through the training room. 

Various bladers were running on treadmills, lifting weights, and riding exercise bikes. The sun shone brightly through the wall of windows, lighting up the room. It was all so modern and refined. Wren felt like he was out of place in such a nice and sophisticated place.

—

Happy handed Wren his backpack, which he swung onto one shoulder, and one of his suitcases, taking the other and slamming the trunk closed. “Alright, I told Tony that you’d be here twenty minutes ago so let’s go.”

The place reeked of expensive professionalism. The elevator that Happy had led them to was the size of a walk in closet and had quilted leather lining the top half of the walls, while the bottom half remained a glossy wood. There was cold, reflective metal railings on all three walls. If it weren’t for the lingering scent of lemon cleaner, it probably would have smelled like freshly printed money.

Wren put down his suitcase and leaned back against the wall, gripping the railing tightly. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he heard the click of a button being pushed. The elevator doors closed and the elevator jerked to life, whirring softly. Wren’s grip tightened.

—

Wren wouldn’t say that he was afraid of heights. He didn’t like heights but he didn’t have a severe fear of them. But as the elevator got higher and higher and the people walking on the ground got smaller and smaller, Wren couldn’t help the nauseous feeling in his stomach. Or maybe that was because he’d just thrown up in the bathroom.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ashtem asked, standing shoulder to shoulder with Wren. Ashtem’s quiet voice made Wren shiver.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Wren answered.

“I’m very glad that you agreed to come to dinner with me. As soon as I heard about a new sky-high restaurant opening up in lower Manhattan, I just had to come. I figured that it would be good to spoil you a bit as well, I know how hard you’ve been working.”

Wren awkwardly smiled.

—

The elevator dinged as they passed by each floor, slowing to a stop and opening into an empty foyer. It was a long hallway, filled with windows on one side and doors on the other. There was an overhang with glass railing along it. If Wren looked over, he was sure that he’d see the floor below. Wren and Ms. Wilma followed Happy down the hall a couple meters until they reached one of the closed doors. Happy opened it and motioned his head for them to go inside.

Wren stepped in and looked around. It was a large lounge room filled with expensive yet cozy looking furniture, connected to a nice looking kitchen and another living room area. Various pictures hung on the walls and sat in nice looking frames on bookshelves. Empty cups and scattered papers sat on counters and tables. Multicolored throw pillows were messily placed on beige backless couches that looked more like chase lounges. The place was nice, really nice, and gave Wren New York vibes. He was almost impressed.

Happy sighed loudly as he entered the room. “JARVIS? Where’s the boss?”

“Sir is currently in the lab. Would you like me to get him for you?” a British voice spoke. Wren furrowed his eyes in confusion as he looked around. It sounded robotic and like it came from some kind of speaker or intercom but there wasn’t anything that Wren could see.

“Yeah, tell him that his kid’s here,” Happy said, rubbing his temples with his free hand. “This is JARVIS, by the way. He’s an AI that Tony made forever and a half ago.”

Wren nodded slowly, “Artificial Intelligence, huh? That’s kinda cool actually. Hi, JARVIS,” Wren waved his hand.

“Hello, Mister Wren. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” JARVIS said.

“Just call me Daiichi,” Wren said, putting his backpack and suitcase on the ground.

“Of course, Daiichi.”

“Hey, JARVIS? What is this place exactly?” Wren asked, fiddling with the sleeve of his lettermen. 

“This is the New Avengers Facility, designed and built by Mr. Stark for the purpose of a residential area and base of operations for the Avengers after the defeat of Ultron and the establishment of the team’s new foster.”

“Ultron, yeah, I think I remember that happening. Shit was crazy,” Wren said, walking over to an oversized chess board and messing with the pieces. He vaguely felt the eyes of Ms. Wilma and Happy on him as he leisured around the room, touching and looking at various items. “What even are the Avengers? I mean, I heard about the aliens in New York and shit but I don’t really know much else.”

“The Avengers are a team of people with extraordinary abilities put together to defend the Earth from things that are above the average person,” JARVIS said.

“Extraordinary abilities,” Wren repeated slowly. “Sounds complicated.”

—

“I don’t understand why this is so hard for you to do, Wren,” Ashtem scowled, clenching his fists. 

He was wearing his helmet-like black mask so the fury in his eyes was hidden behind the black visors, but it could be heard in the man’s low voice. Wren blearily looked up at him from the cold floor, a frown on his face. The dim lighting in the room made Ashtem look bigger than he was. The purple lines at the top of his mask were barely visible and the red lightning bolt and spiky designs near his eyes seemed to be dripping down his mask like blood, but Wren knew that was just his imagination.

“I saved you because I sensed potential in you. I thought you would grow into these extraordinary abilities that you seem to possess. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you’re too weak,” Ashtem began pacing, his black and purple coat trailing behind him.

“I’m sorry, Ashtem,” Wren said quietly.

“No, I’m sorry,” Ashtem said coldly. “The Snake Pit doesn’t tolerate losers, Wren.”

—

“Indeed, it is. Do you have any other questions, Daiichi?”

Wren hummed quietly, “Didn’t something happen after Ultron? The Accords or something? I remember reading about it a couple years ago. Yeah, and then the Avengers broke up. My buddy Valt’s siblings, Nika and Toko, were devastated.”

“Yes, the Avengers had temporary split until recently, when the Accords were amended. Since then, they have all resided here with Mr. Stark.”

“Politics and family drama, sounds like one hell of a Christmas,” Wren shrugged off his jacket and put it on the back of an armchair. “I remember when all that was happening. My, uh, friend, Shu, had been assigned a project in school about the current political climate in America, some specially gifted program or something. He said that he thought the whole thing was stupid as hell and that Stark was a moron.”

“Mr. Stark regrets a lot of what happened but has since fixed those mistakes and worked hard to make up for it. The same could be said for Captain Rogers.”

“The Accords were because of Ultron, right? And that was Stark’s fault? Makes sense that he’d have a guilt complex.”

“Y’know what, kid,” Happy spoke up before JARVIS could answer. “I don’t think you should be talking about your father like that.”

Wren turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “Is that so? Why? Why shouldn’t I be able to talk about someone who I’ve never met, especially since it’s just a comment on something that he did and not actually on his person?”

Happy went to open his mouth but he was cut off before he could say anything. 

“The kid’s not entirely wrong, Hap. Let him ask questions and talk about me, he’s not from around here,” a new, American voice emerged from across the room.

The man was shorter than Wren was by a couple of inches but he made up for it in his confident posture. He had a nicely shaved goatee and styled dark brown hair. He was wearing a grey band t-shirt and a worn out pair of jeans that completely contradicted the other expensive and crisp appearances of his home.

“Tony Stark, wonderful for you to join us,” Ms. Wilma said, a smile on her face.

“Sorry for being late, I got caught up in the lab and completely lost track of time. I try not to let it happen that often, especially when there’s an incredibly beautiful woman at my door,” Tony said, shaking Ms. Wilma’s hand with a charming smile.

“No worries, Mr. Stark,” Ms. Wilma was blushing. “Umm, anyways, this Daiichi Wren, your son.”

Ms. Wilma dug into her purse and pulled out a large beige file with Wren’s name on it. She handed it to Tony as he looked Wren up and down.

“Nice to finally meet you, kid,” Tony said, reaching out a hand.

Wren stared at it for a second before silently shaking it.

“I was kind of surprised when they told me that my kid was living in Spain and had grown up in Japan. I’d figure that your mom would’ve kept you in New York,” Tony said with a laugh. 

“What the hell do you know about my mother?” Wren muttered.

“Hey, watch the attitude,” Happy said, taking off his sunglasses.

Tony held up a hand. “It’s fine, Happy. I don’t blame him. This entire situation must really suck for you, huh?”

Wren rolled his eyes. “Not really. I’m having an absolute fucking blast over here, Mr. Stark. I honestly don’t know where you got the idea that this shit sucks. It’s not like I’m absolutely exhausted. It’s not like I’m being forced to be here. Little ironic considering the fact that, where I’m from, everyone willingly goes to America and I’m the only one who has to be dragged across the world by a fucking social worker. Absolute blast.”

—

“Do you have to leave?” Wren asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, I do,” Free said with a smile. “But I’ll be back eventually. Maybe after the World Leagues or something.”

Wren sat next to him on the soft grass of the hill, the forest right behind them. He sighed, leaning back on his hands and feeling the sun’s warm embrace.

“I’ll be back,” Free repeated, finally looking at Wren.

“I don’t understand why you have to go to America, Free. You love BC Sol more than all of us combined. What’s the point in joining the Raging Bulls?”

Free was quiet for a long time and Wren thought that the conversation was over. They sat in silence, listening to the birds chirp and the branches rustle from the gentle breeze.

“I’ll tell you what I told Valt. The problem is that I like BC Sol too much. It relies on me in order to win. That’s not the BC Sol that I know and love. Nothing will change if I stay and that worries me,” Free said, “But with you and Valt on the team now, I feel major changes coming. It’s a good thing. I trust that you will lead BC Sol back into the glory of what it once was.”

Wren didn’t know how to respond to that. His heart felt heavy with emotion and he blinked away tears. “I don’t know if I can do that without you, Free. I don’t want you to go to America.”

“Why not?” Free tilted his head to the side.

“I- I just-“ Wren looked down at his lap. “Shu said something similar to me before he left to join the Raging Bulls. You’re my friend, Free, and it would be really shitty if you dropped that like Shu did. America is a hellhole. It takes the good things in life and destroys them. The Raging Bulls is full of shit and Theodore Glass is an asshole. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave.”

“You talk like you have experience,” Free said, putting his hand over Wren’s.

“You could say that or you could call it intuition. I just have a really bad feeling about all of this.”

Free smiled. “I’ll be back, Wren. I promise you that I’ll be back.”

—

Tony blinked. “He’s got quite the mouth on him, doesn’t he?” he said to Ms. Wilma, making Wren clench his fists in irritation.

“Yes, he does. He’s usually not like this. I’m chalking it up to jet lag and exhaustion,” Ms. Wilma said apologetically, sending a stern look in Wren’s direction.

“You’re both idiots,” Wren muttered. 

Ms. Wilma loudly clapped her hands together. “Anyways! This is where I take my leave. I’ll be back a week from today to make sure that Daiichi is settling in properly. Dr. Eric Edwards will be in touch, he’s a child psychologist and has to give a thorough evaluation on Daiichi and how this whole thing is affecting him. You both have my number so feel free to contact me with any questions, comments, or concerns regarding anything and everything, okay? Okay. Daiichi? Is there anything you need before I go?”

Wren glanced at her, “Plane tickets back to Spain?”

Ms. Wilma frowned, “I’m sorry, Daiichi, but-“

“I know,” Wren interrupted, “I know.”

Ms. Wilma rubbed his shoulder and turned to Happy. “Mr. Hogan, would it be too much to ask for a ride?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Happy answered, nodding his head at Tony and opening the door for Ms. Wilma. They left the room, their footsteps fading into nothing as the soundproof door closed.

“So...” Tony said, awkwardly trying to put a stop to the silence before it started. “What do you wanna do, Daiichi? Wanna get some food? Take a shower? See your room?” Tony tossed Wren’s file on a nearby shelf. He didn’t seem to care that much about it.

Wren halfheartedly shrugged, “My room, I guess.” 

Tony nodded and picked out both of Wren’s suitcases. Wren swung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed his jacket, tucking it under his arm.

“Can you open that for me?” Tony asked, jerking his head towards the door.

Wren complied, opening the door and following Tony out. They continued down the foyer and as he looked along the dozen or so doors, Wren’s curiosity peaked. “What’re all these rooms?”

“Hm?” Tony turned his body to look. “Oh, those. Most of them are offices or other recreational rooms for the team. If we keep going a little bit, there’s a pool, lab, and a training room.”

“You have a training room?”

“Yeah, we have five gyms throughout the building too, but this is a training room especially for the Avengers. It’s honestly a matter of how far you wanna walk,” Tony said. “Why? Do you like working out? Pumping iron? Lifting? Do you take hardcore steroids?”

“I don’t like working out,” Wren answered honestly. “I like training. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, right, of course there is,” Tony said facetiously. 

Tony led them down a ramp to a crossroads of three corridors. Two of them had six doors, three on each side, before they ended. The third continued on to a different corridor. The doors in the two corridors were different from the rest. Some were decorated with blocky letters, spelling out names like ‘CLINT’ and ‘RHODEY’, while others were covered in stickers or colorful paint. There were a couple of plain doors, bare of anything. All of them were closed.

“Okay, so hallway number one is mostly for temporary Avengers, the ones who have places to live outside the compound. That door-“ Tony pointed to one of the plain ones, “-is a bathroom, but the other one is a free bedroom that you’re welcome to use. However, there’s two free bedrooms in hallway number two with the more permanent residents and there’s also two guest rooms in my penthouse area which is in an entirely different floor. Wait, actually, scratch that. I only have one now because I gave the other to Peter-“

“You have a penthouse area?” Wren interrupted.

“Of course I do, kid. I made the damn place so I’m gonna get my own penthouse. Plus, Pepper would be pissed if we had to share everything with these guys,” Tony said, putting down Wren’s suitcases and rubbing his hands together.

“Who’s Pepper?” Wren asked.

Tony pulled out his wallet and took out a worn down picture, the edges rounded and the back smudged. He handed the picture to Wren with a smile. It was of Tony and a pretty, redheaded woman. It looked like it was taken a couple years prior if Tony’s hair and smoother face was anything to go by. The woman had a nice smile that reached her blue eyes. She wore a deep blue dress that hugged her figure nicely. Tony had an arm around her waist and they both had champagne glasses in their hands. 

“My fiancée,” Tony said, “The most incredible woman in the world. Don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s out attending meetings for Stark Industries right now but she’ll be back later tonight... probably.”

Wren stated at the picture with a growing numbness. He didn’t want a stepmom. Having a father was bad enough but Wren didn’t want to deal with a stepmom. “I have a new mom now? Wonderful. That’s exactly what I wanted on this fine Friday morning.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something but seemed to be rendered speechless. Wren gave him back the picture and walked into the middle corridor, running a hand over the first of the decorated doors. It had an American flag painted towards the top and ‘Steve’ was written in thin, black cursive over it. Wren moved to the door across from it. This one had a black and red spider painted in the center and had blood dripping from the legs to the bottom of the door. There was a single unicorn sticker above the doorknob, the white trim was beginning to peel. Next to the spider door was a plain, undecorated door.

“So, that’s another bathroom and the other two are empty bedrooms. That one has a master bathroom in it but the other doesn’t,” Tony said, pointing to each respective room. The door Wren was standing in front of was the bedroom with the master bathroom.

Wren already made his choice. He opened the door in front of him and stepped into the darkness. The only light in the room came from outside, stripes beaming in from the window across the room. He flipped on the light switch.

It was huge; huge and relatively empty. There was a queen sized, cream colored bed pushed into the back right corner with a light brown and beige bedside table next to it and a large window, covered by white blinds, above it. In the center of the room was a square, grey rug that covered a large chunk of the carpeted floor. The only other piece of furniture was on the opposite wall where there was a wooden desk with a black swivel chair. The bathroom door was next to it. Directly across the foot of the bed was a large closet with a sliding mirror door and a dresser inside. The obvious vacancy of the room only made it appear bigger. The only time Wren ever had a bedroom that size was in his dorm room in BC Sol but he had to share that with Silas and, later, Cuza. 

“Pretty nice, right? We can take you shopping to fill it up more and make it less... y’know,” Tony said, putting Wren’s suitcases on the ground. “There’s a mall opening up tomorrow that Pepper and your Uncle Rhodey are dying to go to. It could be a good, I don’t know, family bonding experience or something.” 

Wren pulled out his worn out wallet from his back pocket and dug through it, finding only six hundred and fifty-two yen and a few crumbled coupons. “If my math’s correct, I only have like eight dollars,” he said, quietly counting the bills.

“Six dollars,” JARVIS corrected.

“My math was wrong, I only have six dollars.”

Tony laughed. “Don’t worry about it, kid, I’ll pay for everything. It’s not like I’m running short on money or anything.”

“And I’m pretty sure no one takes yen at this particular mall,” JARVIS said, tone humorous and light.

“That’s why you exchange it,” Wren said, rolling his eyes and stuffing his wallet back in his pocket. Tony let out another, smaller, laugh. He went to put a hand on Wren’s shoulder but pulled it back last second.

“Alright well, I’m gonna let you settle in and get some rest. The others are gonna be back within the next couple of hours so you can meet them then. The elevator you used earlier and the one in that last hallway- I don’t know if you saw it- also go from this floor to my penthouse and a bunch of other floors and stuff that JARVIS can help you with. If you need anything, ask JARVIS or come get me, I’ll probably be in the kitchen or my lab until Pepper and the others get back.”

Wren nodded and sent Tony a small, tight smile. He grabbed one of his suitcases and tossed it onto the bed. He heard Tony leave the room and close the door behind him. It gave Wren a second to breathe, or attempt to breathe. The entire situation was overwhelming as hell and Wren wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Free and take a nap.

But Free was back in Spain, probably not caring that Wren was gone. 

Tears welled up in Wren’s eyes. It suddenly hit him just how alone he was. No friends, no family, no one.

Wren closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying not to cry. Daiichi Wren couldn’t cry. Only the weak would cry over something so pathetically minuscule.

Wren wasn’t weak.

—

Lui grunted as he gripped the handle to his training machine with his left hand and yanked. A long metal cable was sent whirring backwards and snapped loudly as it whipped the air. Wren observed from the sidelines, eyes trailing over Lui’s muscular arms as he repeated the action.

“I’m surprised that you don’t get Blader’s Break more often,” Wren said when Lui dropped the handle and let it snap back into place with a loud clang. Wren tossed him a bottle of cold water and a white gym towel. 

“Blader’s Break?” Lui questioned, wiping the sweat from his face and taking a long drink from his water. His usual condescending tone was much more rigid and calm, like it was when he spoke with Free. It gave Wren a warm feeling to know that Lui respected him enough to talk to him as an equal.

“Yeah, y’know, it’s like when you fuck up your arm or shoulder because of blading. I call it a Blader’s Break,” Wren explained.

“Even though nothing’s actually broken?”

“Well, yeah. Blader’s Break is much catchier than Blader’s Sprain or Blader’s Arm. All I’m saying is that training like that has got to have physical repercussions. I mean, I’m pretty strong and I can barely tug on that thing.”

Lui smirked and dropped his towel on the mat that Wren was sitting on. “That’s just because you’re weak,” Lui said.

Wren froze. His blood ran cold. Lui’s voice suddenly didn’t sound like Lui anymore. It was a weird distorted mixture of Shu and Ashtem. Wren’s chest tightened and it felt like the room was spinning.

“Wren? Wren!” Lui kneeled in front of him. “What’s happening?”

Wren could barely focus. He could barely think. His lungs felt tight, making it impossible to get in a breath without wheezing quietly. “F-fuck,” he said, gripping the mat below him in an attempt to ground himself.

Lui seemed to understand what was happening, or he thought he did, because he reached over Wren and grabbed a white fur coat. It was a gift to Lui from his friend and teammate, Gabe, for his coming trip to Everest. Lui draped the coat over Wren’s shoulders, making sure that his hands didn’t touch the shaking boy. Wren’s reaction was instantaneous; his shoulders slumped and he rubbed his cheek over the soft fur. Wren had been actively against Lui replacing his iconic white boa but he had to admit that he liked the texture of his new coat, even if it was much too small for him to actually wear.

They sat like that for a while. The only sound in the room was the ticking clock and the sound of Wren’s harsh breaths. Lui’s words repeated in Wren’s head over and over again, only they still weren’t in Lui’s voice. Flashes of the Red Eye mask telling him he was weak when he lost the battle, Ashtem reprimanding him for not finishing his training routine or losing against the stronger Snake Pit bladers, Silas snickering the first time Wren battled, and lost, against him. Weak. Weak. Weak. How pathetic.

“I was just joking,” Lui said, feigning indifference once Wren began to calm down. Even with his tone, Wren could see concerning seeping through Lui’s facade.

“I know,” Wren said with a small smile. “I know. It’s just that- I don’t know. I guess that word brings back some pretty negative memories. I’m sorry.”

Lui placed a hand on Wren’s shoulder, under the coat. He gently rubbed the exposed skin there, fingers getting caught against the black tank top strap. “What are you apologizing for? Having a panic attack?”

“Being weak.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lui sounded genuinely offended. “You’re one of the strongest bladers I know. I wouldn’t associate myself with you if that weren’t the case. Understand?”

Wren nodded numbly. He didn’t understand.

“Wren, you’re not weak.”

—

“Sir?” 

Wren sniffled and wiped harshly at his eyes and cheeks. “Yeah, JARVIS?” 

“You seem to be under emotional distress. Would you like me to get your father?” JARVIS asked.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Wren said, “I just need a nap or a shower, whichever comes first.”

“Very well. If there’s something that you do need, don’t be afraid to let me know.”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Wren said. 

He sighed quietly and unzipped his suitcase, loathing the idea of unpacking. He began taking out folded clothes and throwing them in the general direction of the dresser inside the closet, not bothering to keep anything organized. He could do that when he actually put his room together. 

Wren slowly unpacked both suitcases and his backpack. Fatigue was making it harder and harder to do things. Clothes were thrown in the closet messily, pictures and books were placed on the desk, and all of his beyblade supplies were tossed onto the bed. That was something that he actually had to check and put away. Wren regularly did inventory of his supplies and extra parts. He liked to tinker and mess around with bey combinations and add-ons. If anything was lost or broken during the flight, he’d have to replace it as soon as possible. 

He took out his launcher from his neatly folded blading belt and checked it thoroughly. There weren’t any cracks or visible damage. Wren stood up straight, his legs an even distance apart, and looped his middle finger through the ring of the ripper. He gripped it hard and then yanked it back, simulating an actual launch. The ripper snapped back to the launcher smoothly, just as it should. The spin of the launcher seemed normal and there wasn’t any resistance with the launch itself. Wren put down the launcher next to his headphones on the bedside table, deeming its condition acceptable. He looked over his blading belt. The bey and launcher cases seemed fine, the buttons that opened said cases all worked smoothly, and there was no physical damage to the belt itself. Wren buckled his belt and swung it over one of the light colored bedposts, sighing in relief. The most important things were fine. He started digging through the pile of bey supplies on his bed and began sorting them. The bey parts, bey cleaning rags, and various launcher add-ons were checked and thrown into the bedside table drawer. Finally, he pulled out Durago and gently placed it next to his launcher. Seeing the cracks in it made him flinch but Wren didn’t have any of his bey repair tools, regrettably choosing to leave them with Silas. 

It was a problem for future, more awake Wren to deal with.

Wren tossed the empty luggage onto the floor and stepped over to the mess of clothes in his closet. He dug through it all and pulled out one of Free’s baggy yellow tank tops and a pair of black boxers that he probably stole from Shu. Cool and comfortable, Wren flipped off the light switch and flopped forward onto the bed. He sunk into the soft mattress, groaning quietly. It felt so good compared to the stiff airplane seats.

“G’night, Silas,” Wren said softly, his voice muffled by the fluffy white pillow. 

Loneliness cradled him gently as Wren drifted off to sleep. 

——

By the time his eyes fluttered open, it was dark outside. The lights of the New York buildings lit up the area like stars on Earth. Wren muttered incoherently to himself as he slowly sat up.

“JARVIS? What time is it?” Wren asked, groggily rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He yawned loudly and stretched his arms over his head. For Wren, the worst part about sleeping was the process of waking up. His brain felt slow and laggy in the mornings, making it impossible to think straight. 

“It is currently 8:14 at night. You were asleep for eleven hours and nine minutes.”

“Why didn’t- ugh, why didn’t anyone wake me up?” Wren sat up, squinting through the darkness of his room. Nothing seemed different.

“Mr. Stark thought it would be best to let you sleep after such a long flight and troubling transition to new surroundings,” JARVIS said.

Wren sighed and rubbed his face. “Is that the word he used? Troubling?” Wren asked, pausing for a beat. “Never mind, don’t answer that. It was rhetorical.”

Wren slid off of the oversized bed, toes stretching against the rug. “I’m not gonna be able to go back to sleep now. Where’s, uh, Stark? Tony? What am I supposed to call him exactly?”

“Call him whatever makes you feel comfortable. He’s currently in the kitchen with Miss Romanoff, Mister Barton, and Captain Rodgers. Would you like me to get him for you?”

“No, that’s fine,” Wren said, “I’ll just go there after I take a piss.”

Wren tiredly walked into the bathroom and lazily flipped the light on, blinding him instantly. Once he got used to the light, he looked around. The bathroom was twice the size of the walk in closet and had a black tiled standalone shower hidden behind a wall and a large bathtub in the corner next to it. It looked absolutely spotless. The bottom half of the beige wall had white tiles that reflected the ceiling lights strongly. There wasn’t a speck of dust or dirt anywhere, much like everything else. There were two sinks along the long counter that went from the door to the toilet. The light colored wood cabinets and dark grey marble top went nicely with the other colors in the bathroom. 

At least whoever designed it had a good taste in color palettes.

Above the sinks was a large mirror that went along the wall. Bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash lined the back of the sink, all different brands and scents. In a white cup between the sinks was a handful of multicolored toothbrushes and half a dozen different kinds of toothpaste. Different bottles of hand soap cluttered the counters even more, looking extremely out of place but extremely undistinguishable at the same time. Hand and shower towels were hung on the wall in their respective areas and there was a light blue fur rug in the center of the room, covering the porcelain tile floor.

It looked fancier than Wren honestly deserved and he couldn’t help but notice the obvious effort to accommodate him. Wren couldn’t tell if Tony had stocked the bathroom just in case Wren chose it or because he knew that Wren would choose it. Either way, it was a nice gesture.

Wren didn’t trust it.

He took care of his business, wincing at the loudness of the flushing toilet. He was still half asleep as he stood in front of the right most sink. His eyes trailed over his reflection in the mirror. One thing in particular stood out to him. It wasn’t the tired eyes, flushed face, or how Free’s tank top hung on his figure. It was a realization that, for some reason, shook him to his core. 

He looked absolutely nothing like Tony Stark.

It was obvious to anyone that Wren got most, if not all, of his features from his mother. Nariko Wren was a tall, lean woman with shoulder length black hair that curled around her ears. She was born and raised in Japan but her father was an American man with blonde hair and blue eyes, granting her with a feature that most Asians didn’t have. Her deep blue eyes could pierce through anyone and made her special, just like it did Wren.

Compare all of that to Anthony Stark, a stocky Italian-American with chocolate brown eyes, dark brown hair, and tan, sun kissed skin. It seemed like Wren had inherited nothing from his father. There was no resemblance between them.

Wren didn’t know if that comforted him or made things worse.

Wren washed his hands and splashed water onto his face, successfully waking himself up a bit more. He suddenly realized how dry his mouth was. He wasn’t particularly thirsty, even if his mouth felt like he’d been eating sand, but he would kill for some Ramune. Unfortunately, he knew from past experience that he’s most likely not going to find any while in America.

Wren passed by Durago on his way out, making him stop. He debated bringing it along but figured that was pointless and made his way into the corridor. It was unsurprisingly empty. The lights were on but they were dimmed and it was filled with the very distant aroma of coffee. He kept walking until he reached the door to the lounge area and walked in. The lights were on full brightness in the room and in the jointed kitchen, loud laughter echoing from that area. 

He quietly slipped out from the shadows, a hand loosely gripping his other arm. He felt the weight of anxiety in his chest and had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. 

Tony was standing in front of a bright red coffee machine, leaning against the counter with a toothy smile on his face. He was wearing the same thing that Wren saw him in but it was stained with black marks. He was talking to a large, muscular blonde man wearing a grey t-shirt and sweatpants. He stood next to Tony and had a blue cup in his hand, taking sips out of it when he wasn’t talking. There was a slim, pretty woman sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. She had dyed red hair that went to her jaw and a skintight, black bodysuit with straps and holsters around her waist. Her feet were hooked around the stool and she was leaning forward on one of her arms, laughing. There was another guy with short, spiky light brown hair and purple devices that curved around his ears. They looked like hearing aids but Wren didn’t like to assume anything. The guy wore a black sleeveless bodysuit with a maroon arrow pattern and a zipper down the front. He had an arm guard on his right forearm and he was fiddling with a black archery bow as he sat on the counter, a quiver full of arrows on the ground next to him. He seemed uninterested in the conversations taking place and looked to be tuning them out completely.

The atmosphere was warm and friendly. It reminded Wren of all the times that he’d walk in on his teammates laughing loudly and stuffing their faces with food after a long day of training. 

—

“C’mon, Daiichi, don’t be shy,” Shasa said, a wide smile on her face as she waved him over to her table. 

She was sitting at a table with her younger sister, Honey, and the new roommates: Kit, Valt, and Rantaro. Valt Aoi and Rantaro Kiyama were new to the team and scouted by Kris, just like Wren was. They were both Japanese bladers who held their own during Nationals. Apparently, Valt had nearly won against Lui Shirosagi, the strongest blader in Japan for five consecutive years. It would be impressive if Valt didn’t always act like a complete amateur who had no idea what he was doing. 

The other members of the team, regardless of their level within BC Sol, were grouped off in their own cliques. They were all smiling and laughing as they talking amongst themselves. Even Ange, the cook, had a smile on her face as she watched the kids eat her food. The lighting was warm and slightly dimmed, adding to the relaxed ambiance.

Wren noticed that Free was missing within the crowd, not that it was surprising in any way. Free never ate with the others. He was probably training in the forest and would be for a few more hours minimum. Wren would usually join him but they’d been training together all day and training with Free always left him starving by nightfall. 

Wren silently took a seat in between Honey and Rantaro, placing his tray on the table and beginning to eat his food, some kind of rice dish with spicy chicken. The most difficult thing about living in Spain was the transition from Japanese foods to Spanish foods but Wren found that, as long as it was editable, he was fine with eating it. 

“Do you ever, like, smile?” Rantaro asked, green lollipop bobbing in his mouth as he talked.

“Do you ever, like, stop talking?” Wren asked mockingly, “I’m trying to eat.”

Rantaro, quite dramatically, threw his hands up in defense. “Hey, I’m just trying to make conversation. You’re not exactly the easiest guy to get along with.”

“Thanks,” Wren said dryly. 

“No, I’m serious,” Rantaro said, “With the brooding and the fact that you isolate yourself from everyone-“

“Free does that too,” Kit pointed out. Wren sent him a small nod in thanks. 

He liked Kit more than he liked most of the team. Both Honey and Kit were enthusiastic kids apart of the BC Sol junior squad and they liked to follow around the higher level kids during training. Kit was smart and worked well as a mini bey-tech, analyzing beys and their techniques. Wren found him useful during training if Trad wasn’t around.

“Yeah but at least Free is friendly; mostly. Actually, Free is kind of a dick but he’s nicer than Daiichi is!” Rantaro said, slamming his fist on the table.

“Honcho has a point,” Valt nodded, “Free isn’t as mean to people and he’s actually pretty cool once you get to know him.”

Wren paid them no mind and continued to eat. He didn’t care what a couple of rookies thought about him, especially if they were stupid enough to compare him to Free.

“Guys, cool it,” Shasa spoke up, “Daiichi is the second best blader on the team and he’s just as cool as Free is. You guys don’t know him all that well ‘cause you’re new. Once you get used to him, you’ll see.”

“Yeah!” Honey chimed, “Daiichi’s the coolest! He’s even cooler than Free is!”

“Thanks, Shasa, Honey.”

“Well, I’m only telling the truth,” Shasa said, stubbornly crossing her arms. “But you’re welcome, Daiichi.”

Valt hummed loudly, “What about a battle? Eh, Daiichi? I keep hearing that you’re really good but I haven’t actually seen you battle yet and that gets me so fired up! I just wanna go against you and see just how strong you are!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, bud,” Rantaro said, “It’s dark out and we’re supposed to be turning in soon. Besides, I wanna battle him too!”

“Yeah, and usually Daiichi goes off at night anyways. But you guys can battle tomorrow, like during training or something,” Kit suggested. 

“If he’s okay with it,” Honey said hopefully.

Wren looked up to see everyone’s eyes on him. They all had excited and hopeful looks on their faces. 

Wren sighed, “Fine.”

The table erupted in delighted cheers. Wren smiled around his fork. As much as he loved to train and battle during the day, Wren preferred the spirit of night. Smiles, laughter, and delicious food. It was infectious.

—

The woman looked over her shoulder at Wren as he half stepped into the kitchen. She smiled warmly at him and motioned her hand for him to join them.

“Hey, Stark,” she said, turning to to Tony. “Your son’s up.”

Tony stopped talking mid sentence and smiled softly as Wren approached slowly, looking like a spooked animal.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted, reaching up and grabbing a white coffee mug from a cupboard. “How was your nap?”

“Exhausting,” Wren mumbled, his dull nails beginning to dig into the skin of his arm.

“Yeah, I bet. You want something to eat? Drink? I just made a pot of coffee.”

“Coffee would be nice,” Wren said, aware of the awkward silence as it stretched on. He felt eyes on him but refused to look at anyone but Tony. Wren didn’t like the guy very much but he was the only familiar face in the room.

Tony handed him a Pikachu themed mug before turning back to the coffee machine as it beeped. Tony filled his own mug to the top, the coffee steaming and black. He carefully gave Wren the handle to the coffee pot. “There’s milk in the fridge, creamer on the counter, and sugar in that cabinet. Help yourself.”

Wren nodded and poured his coffee until it was three fourths of the way full. “Do you have any orange juice?” he asked quietly.

“There’s some in the fridge,” the blonde man said, motioning his cup towards it.

Wren slipped passed him and opened the two fridge doors. It was filled with various foods and drinks, some with sticky notes and sloppily sharpie written names. Wren looked to his right and grabbed the orange juice carton from the door, closing them behind him as he stepped over to his mug. He topped off his coffee with the orange juice, the black color turning a shade or two lighter.

“Kid, what the fuck are you doing?!”

Wren cocked his head to the side at Tony’s question. “What? You guys don’t do this?” he asked, reaching into the cupboard above him and grabbing the sugar, adding some to his drink. 

“Fuck no,” Tony said, “What the fuck? Orange juice and coffee? Kid, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s not that unusual,” Wren said, mixing everything with a spoon the blonde man offered him as he spoke. “It’s pretty common in Italy to have your coffee with an orange slice and its been a trend in Arizona for the past few years or so in coffee shops to mix coffee and orange juice. I got hooked when I went to Phoenix. I do it differently with more coffee than juice instead of the reverse but it’s still pretty good.”

Wren blew on his drink before he took a small sip, the liquid burning his tongue. The bitterness of the coffee was toned down by the mixed sweetness and tanginess of the sugar and orange juice. The mixture wasn’t as thick as he normally would make it but his throat felt tight and the idea of a thick drink made him feel nauseous. Wren turned around and saw three sets of wide eyes staring at him, even the guy with a bow was focused on him. Tony was staring too but he had a look of disgust, not surprise. Wren was suddenly hyperaware of everyone around him and shrunk into himself.

“Huh, interesting,” the woman said, “I like you, kid. What’s your name?”

“Oh, right,” Tony muttered before Wren could respond. “This is my son, Daiichi Wren. Daiichi, this is the team. Well, some of it anyways. Everyone else is asleep or out doing stuff,” Tony motioned his free hand around dramatically.

“Redhead over here is Natasha Romanoff. She’s in the room right next to yours, and she’s a master assassin so that’s fun,” Tony shrugged playfully. “The icicle is Steve Rogers. You may also know him as Captain America or the bane of my existence.”

Steve, the blonde man, shook his head as he chuckled. He put down his cup and took a step closer to Wren, holding a hand out. Wren grasped Steve’s hand, politely shaking it.

“Quite a grip you got there, son,” Steve commented, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Thanks,” Wren said, slowly pulling back his hand. “So you’re the symbol of the patriotic America?”

Steve chuckled again. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Why?”

“Do you realize,” Wren drawled, “That you represent a country full of unnecessary hardship and monopolists who go unpunished? That America is a shit show?”

“Daiichi,” Tony said lowly, “Can you not pick fights with everyone you meet?” 

Wren shrugged. “Am I wrong?” he muttered around the rim of his mug, taking another long drink.

Steve looked conflicted. “You could say that, but you could also say that about any country. America isn’t perfect but it’s better than a lot of places.”

Wren went to argue but Tony cut him off.

“Anyways, last and, well, least, the guy with a bow and arrow over there is Clint Barton. He actually might not be able to hear us. Hey! Old man! Did you turn your hearing aids up?” Tony got progressively louder. Clint slowly looked up with a deadpan look on his face as he flipped Tony off. “Unfortunately, yeah I do. I have to put up with your fucking voice.”

“Hey!” Tony snapped his fingers, “There’s a child here. Watch the language, thank you!”

Wren took another gulp of his coffee, “Yeah, I don’t think Tony should hear such naughty words.”

Natasha and Clint started laughing as Tony let out an offended gasp. Even Steve was grinning. “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood, I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it, Tony,” Natasha said, “I’m beginning to like your son more than I like you.”

“That’s not saying much,” Clint said, jerking to the side as Tony threw a half empty spice bottle at him.

Wren had a half smile on his face as they continued bickering. He watched from the sidelines, taking sips of his coffee and leaning back against the counter. They were all so familiar with each other, so comfortable. After Ultron, Wren had read all about the ‘Civil War’, as the media dubbed it. The fight between them had gotten bad, to the point of violence. Steve Rogers and his team had gone underground as fugitives, throwing away their lives completely. Yet, through the harsh words and painful blows, they were all acting like nothing had happened. They were acting like family.

—

Tears cascaded down Wren’s face, small sobs caught in his throat. He refused to let them out.

“Shu,” he said, looking into Shu’s eyes. Once filled with passion and kindness, they were nothing but cold and angry. “Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me that you don’t love me and that nothing we had meant anything and I’ll leave. I’ll leave you to get stronger in the Snake Pit, to run around doing Ashtem’s bidding, to be Spryzen. I’ll walk away from you and from everything that we’ve ever had. Just tell me that you don’t love me.”

Shu was quietly staring at Wren. He was impossible to read. Wren sniffled, wiping away his tears with his lettermen sleeve. He knew Shu Kurenai more than most people knew themselves. He knew about the loneliness that Shu felt when his parents were away. He knew the hours and hours that Shu put into his hobbies, beyblade and cooking. He knew Shu’s different smiles inside and out. He knew that Shu-

“I don’t love you.”

—

It was commendable, their ability to forgive. Wren could hold a grudge for years and it took him a long time to find the strength to forgive someone, if he even did. Wren’s heart tugged in his chest, making itself painfully known. A hollow feeling overcame him, numbness spreading throughout his body. He sighed through his nose, his content mood gone. He couldn’t let his guard down around these people. He didn’t know them. They were Americans and if he’s learned anything from his travels, it’s that America and the people in it cannot be trusted. 

Wren quietly put his mug on the counter and attempted to duck out of the kitchen unseen. Steve noticed him anyway and subtly waved him goodbye. Wren averted his eyes and made his way out the lounge door and into the corridor. 

Wren shivered and rubbed his arms. The temperature change between the warm and lived in kitchen and the cold and sharp hallway was drastic. Wren’s sleepwear certainly didn’t help.

Freezing and alone, Wren curled in on himself and started the trek back to his room.


	2. breathe in breathe out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added some tags for a child abuse tw  
It’s more so just implied in this chapter but I’ll probably go deeper on that later on  
Warning for minor panic attacks and ptsd stuff  
Also all the beyblade characters aren’t going to be their canon ages in this, just a heads up  
Sorry for any typos or anything

There are a lot of ways to torture a human being. You can get a variety of creative and gruesome descriptions of people’s personal hells. Wren had always assumed that his answer would have something to do with the Snake Pit and, while that was true, he found that his options had greatly expanded since he got to America.

Rock music played in the background, words far too quiet to be understandable. It was one of Tony’s playlists, full of classic American rock. Wren didn’t know most of the songs but it didn’t matter. He was just playing it to cover the unbearable silence.

Solitude stays tethered to your limbs, a constant reminder of what and who you’ve lost. It’s the heavy boulder that’s indented into your chest. It’s the biting freeze that you can’t warm. It’s the words that will never be spoken. Isolation drives those suffering its silent wrath insane.

Wren grunted as he pushed the barbell off of his chest, sweat gathering on his temples. He felt the strain of his muscles and exhaustion in his bones. He lost track of how long he’d been lifting, running, pulling. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, maybe a little past three in the morning.

Pain wasn’t as bad as people might think. Eventually, it would be over. You might be scarred and maimed but that could be ignored. The white, flaring hot pain stabbing your nerves will fade. The blood seeping into your clothes will drip until it can’t anymore. The throbbing ache in your brain and muscles will come to end. That end might be your death, but it would be better than the years of trauma afterwards.

The training room was lit up brightly. Wren didn’t like the dark. He preferred knowing what was going on at all time and dim lighting didn’t reveal anything. It only mocked him for being a control freak.

Fear crowds you in lively darkness. It traps your mind in a never ending cycle of frantic anxiety and poetic nightmares. It seized every opportunity to tear you apart. It drowned you in thick, black liquid. It laughed as you screamed.

“Daiichi, I believe it’s time to stop,” JARVIS said, “It’s getting late and you’re going to hurt yourself if you continue.”

Wren forced out a small laugh as he did another rep. He didn’t need the advice of a robot. Wren knew his limit. He also knew that he passed it hours ago. He could feel his strength going down as his arms shook. Free’s shirt was drenched in sweat and Wren’s skin was beginning to stick to the black of the bench he was laying on.

“Daiichi,” JARVIS said again.

Wren ignored him.

“Daiichi,” JARVIS’ voice was sharper, it was a warning.

He could feel annoyance bubbling up. 

“Daiichi!”

He lost his grip.

Wren cried out as the barbell fell on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He tried to push it off but his arms gave out in exhaustion. Panicked thoughts filled his mind and he frantically tried to breathe or move. He thrashed his body a bit, the barbell moving back and forth, putting heavy pressure on his shoulders. Wren heaved and let out more pained cries as tears welled in his eyes. His rationality told him to stay calm and find a solution but everything in him was scared. He felt like a child.

A red metal hand gripped the barbell and lifted it off of him with ease, tossing it to the side with a very loud clang. Wren inhaled. His hands went flying to his shoulder, it was aching badly. He took a few deep, harsh breaths. 

“Are you alright? My scans tell me that you have a muscle contusion in your right shoulder,” JARVIS said, voice coming out of the red and gold metal man standing at the foot of the bench press. 

“Shit, yeah,” Wren coughed, his mouth dry. “I’m fine. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Good,” JARVIS said, “I believe it’s time for a break. Muscle contusions aren’t serious injuries but they still need rest. Immediate medical attention is not required but I would recommend not working out or lifting anything that could strain your arm. If you further hurt it, I’ll be forced to inform your father and the medical bay.”

“You’re going to tell Tony anyways,” Wren coughed again but he didn’t further object. He wanted to train, energy buzzing beneath his skin, but he was exhausted and sore. He was not stranger to arm injuries and he wouldn’t say no to a long shower and maybe a nap before it was time to go shopping.

Wren allowed JARVIS to lead him by his good arm out of the training room and up the stairs. They trudged down the empty hallway, JARVIS’ feet thudding against the floor with each step. The sun was barely rising, a sliver of light shining through the window. It couldn’t have been that late already, could it?

They made a sudden right, into the hallway where Wren’s room was. “Would you like me to help you into the shower or to bed?”

Wren scrunched his nose up and shook his head. He slowly raised his arm and opened the door, his muscles groaning with each movement. He leaned on JARVIS for support as they walked into the room and Wren leaned against the foot of the bed, JARVIS’ hand on his uninjured shoulder. 

“Hey, JARVIS?” Wren asked, “Why did you save me instead of getting someone else?”

“It would’ve been faster to come myself than to alert any one of the Avengers. Is there anything else you need before I take this suit back to storage?”

Wren felt oddly touched. JARVIS was just doing what he was programmed to do, protect people. Wren pointed at his closet, “Can you get me some clothes? I don’t care what. I just don’t want to walk anymore than I have to.” 

JARVIS didn’t respond but he walked over and grabbed the first things he saw, handing them to Wren and leaving the room upon Wren’s dismissal. Once he was gone, Wren dragged himself towards his bathroom, inching by slowly. Each step was excruciating, not because it hurt but because his body felt so sluggish and tired. Wren’s adrenaline was crashing. 

He tossed the clothes onto the counter and looked over the selection of shampoos, conditioners, and body wash. There were a variety of colors and scents but Wren struggled in reading the various labels. Wren sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he squinted to read. Nothing made sense. Even though Wren was fluent in English and Spanish, he could only really read Japanese. Usually, he’d make a guess based on how long a word was and comparing it to the amount of letters. Wren eventually gave up and grabbed a few black bottles with green leaves. They looked similar enough to the mint scented ones that he usually used so he just hoped for the best. 

He winced and hissed quietly at the pang in his shoulder, a feeling of dread spread through him. His muscle contusion wasn’t just a small bruise. Wren was usually so careful to avoid Blader’s Break. He was no stranger to how inconvenient and painful it was. He sighed quietly, massaging the shoulder with his left hand. First night in America and he’s already fucked himself for at least a week. 

Wren slowly and painfully pulled off the yellow tank top, dropping it on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Wren could see his back and side in the mirror. His black rose tattoo stood out against the light skin of his left shoulder blade. The black upside down cross leaning against it was newer, covering a couple of the scars that littered his back, some long and jagged while others were small and smooth. The mere sight of them made Wren sick to his stomach so he tried covering some of them up. They were a constant reminder of what he did- what he was. He pulled down his shorts, boxers, and the black tennis shoes he used for training. There were a couple more scars wrapping around, going down, and slashing his legs. He remembered each one like a putrid smell that wouldn’t go away. 

Wren slipped into the shower, moaning in relief at the hot water massaging his aching muscles. He stood there, unmoving, for a little under half an hour. He only finished up when he realized that it was getting difficult to keep his eyes open and his legs were beginning to wobble. He snapped open the bottles and began lathering his hair in shampoo. Mint exploded in the room, strong and hot from the steam.

Wren finished up and dried off his body with a random towel that he blindly reached for. He pulled on a pale pink t-shirt and another pair of black boxers that also probably belonged to Shu. Wren halfheartedly dried his hair until it stopped dripping and tossed the towel aside.

Wren barely made it onto the bed before his eyes closed. He curled in on himself, heat radiating off of his body and the mint scent had leaked in, mixing with the clean yet musty smell of the room. Wren inhaled through his nose, smiling.

-

“Jesus, Wren,” Silas held a hand over his nose. “Could you have picked a stronger body wash? I’m not interested in suffocating every time you shower. This is my room too, y’know.”

Wren shook his head back and forth as quickly as his could, spraying water everywhere like a dog. Silas made a noise of disgust and glared at him.

“I don’t know,” Cuza spoke up, hanging upside down from the ceiling light. “I like the smell. I don’t think Carl likes it very much though,” Cuza giggled as Carl, his pet cockatoo, flew around the room squawking loudly, his white feathers ruffled.

“Look,” Wren finally said, “It’s not my fault that you’re a pussy who can’t handle a bit of mint, okay? If you don’t like it, you can leave. This was my room first, y’know,” Wren imitated Silas’ voice mockingly. 

Silas groaned and held half of his face in one hand, his purple tinted glasses going crooked. “You are such a pain in the ass, Wren.”

Wren grinned, “Yeah, not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Cuza dropped onto the floor, landing in between the two boys. He stood up and dusted off his black pants. He turned to Wren. “I have a question. I know I’ve only been here for a few days and this might be a personal thing but I couldn’t help but notice that some people call you Daiichi while others call you Wren. At first I thought it was a Japanese thing but I don’t think I’ve ever heard Valt or Rantaro call you Wren so I don’t really understand.”

“It’s not that complex,” Silas said, crossing his arms. “He only lets close friends call him Wren.”

“Wait, so your friends call you by your last name? Isn’t it usually the reverse? That’s confusing.”

“Well, I’m a confusing person,” Wren said with a small smirk. “It’s more a matter of I grew up being called Wren so I only let certain people use it. I respond to both so it’s not a big deal. Silas uses both all the time.”

“Huh, that’s kinda weird,” Cuza said.

“Weird, weird, weird,” Carl repeated, landing on Cuza’s shoulder.

“As weird as a German kid doing flips with his talking bird?” Silas retorted.

-

Wren spent the next few hours dozing. He saw pictures beneath his eyelids but would promptly forget them the second he jerked awake. At some point, he heard his door open. Wren’s eyes shot open and he lifted his head up lazily. Tony’s head peaked in. “Hey, kid.”

“Can I help you?” Wren asked, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

“I hate to wake you from your beauty sleep but we have to leave in a couple of hours if we want to get to the mall by one so you should get dressed. Bucky’s making pancakes if you want some.”

“It’ll be lunch hour by one,” Wren grumbled, “We can wait a couple more hours.”

“Sorry, kid, but Pepper and Rhodey want to go then and we go by what the women want.”

Wren lifted his hand and shot Tony a thumbs up. He didn’t move though. He had a couple of hours to do that. Tony took that as his cue to leave and silence filled the room once more.

Wren groaned loudly and sat up. He didn’t want to deal with the crowds and noise but he needed to go shopping as soon as possible. He couldn’t live in such a plain, unstimulating environment and he needed to visit a bey shop. He had no choice, the pros outweighed the cons.

Wren blinked slowly, eyes tired and muscles unmotivated to do anything. He hopped off his bed and changed into a black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and tucked it into a pair of black jeans. He put on a pair of white socks and pushed his feet into the dark colored combat boots he’d worn on the plane. The outfit would show off all of his tattoos freely but he didn’t really care. The black lined knife impaling a dragon skull on his right bicep was cool as fuck and the snake wrapping around his elbow under it was a reminder of how much he’d grown as a person. The neatly printed ‘91112’ on his inner left wrist had a lot of meaning to him and he’d gladly show it off. He realized that he definitely looked like a punk delinquent, especially with his messy black bangs swooping downwards to cover his forehead, and his eyes if angled properly. It was dangerously close to being an emo hairstyle but Wren preferred to call it badass.

Satisfied with his appearance, Wren grabbed his blading belt and buckled it around his waist. He purposely left it a notch too big so it slumped around him diagonally. He had an aesthetic and he had to keep with it. Wren grabbed Durago and his launcher, putting them in their appropriate cases on his belt and calling it a day. He was too tired to care any further about how he looked in public. Wren knew that he was attractive and that he would probably look good in anything so he didn’t worry too much about it.

Wren licked his lips and started heading towards the lounge, where he assumed Tony was with the pancakes. After sleeping for eleven hours, working out for a sporadic nine or ten hours, and then sleeping for another couple hours, Wren was starving. His mouth was watering at the thought of food. When he stepped inside, it was deja vu. The smell of coffee, the warm lighting, the laughter. He walked over to the kitchen, too tired to be anxious about who might be there.

Tony was standing next to Pepper, who looked just as beautiful and elegant as she did in the picture despite her causal white button up shirt and black leggings. Tony had a cup of coffee in one hand and had the other one laced with Pepper’s. He was constantly glancing over at her affectionately, looking at her like she was the most important person in the world. Pepper was sitting at the breakfast bar, a half eaten stack of pancakes in front of her and a fork in her left hand. She looked playfully annoyed at the situation.

In front of the stove stood a muscular man flipping pancakes. He had long dark brown hair and one of his arms was made of a dark grey metal that lacked a lot of luster. He had piercing blue eyes that reminded Wren of his own. He must have been Bucky. Steve was leaning backwards on the counter next to Bucky, his hands holding a plate full of pancakes and a large smile on his face.

“Well, good morning, Gerard Way,” Tony said, his attention on Wren.

“I don’t know what that is,” Wren said blankly, sitting next to Pepper at the breakfast bar and letting his head fall forward onto the cold marble with a thunk.

“You must be Daiichi,” Pepper said, her tone amused. Wren lifted his head and gave her a sarcastic smile before letting it fall again. “Not a morning person, huh? That’s okay, neither is Tony.” 

Wren didn’t respond.

“Do you want any pancakes, son?” Steve asked quietly. It was weird. He was being nice after Wren had antagonized him the night before. 

Wren simply nodded his head, forehead smushed and sticking to the counter.

A few seconds later and a plate was set down next to his head. Wren sat up and grinned at the massive stack of pancakes. Steve set down a bottle of maple syrup and a jar of Nutella next to the plate. He looked at Wren for affirmation that his options were fine.

Wren grabbed the jar of Nutella and popped it open gleefully. He’d tried Nutella the last time he came to America and it was incredible. He wasn’t a huge fan of chocolate but he could eat seven jars of Nutella and not blink an eye. “Do you guys have strawberries or bananas?”

Steve laughed and grabbed both, the bananas from the fruit basket and the strawberries from the fridge. “Yes, we do. Do you want them whole or do you want me to cut them into slices?”

Wren narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “Sliced, thanks.”

The next hour was spent with Wren ignoring everyone and stuffing Nutella covered pancakes layered in bananas or strawberries, never together, into his mouth. At some point, Tony placed a Pikachu mug filled with coffee, a shade too light to be straight out the machine, in front of him. Wren looked at the man questioningly with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s your bizarre coffee and orange juice concoction with some sugar mixed in. I still don’t understand how you can drink this shit but, hey, I can’t judge people for their weird habits,” Tony said.

“Oh, uh,” Wren didn’t know how to respond. “Thanks? I guess.” Wren took the steaming mug and blew on it.

Tony turned to Pepper, “So, what exactly are we looking for at this place- Prosperity was it? I’m not crazy about spending most of the day there because you don’t know what you want.” 

Pepper smacked his arm and rolled her eyes. “It’s the grand opening for a mall, Tony. You’re supposed to just go and wander around, that’s the whole point.”

“Well, sure,” Tony said, “But the kid needs stuff for his room. He’s in the room next to Nat-“

“You didn’t offer him the guest room in the penthouse?!” Pepper interrupted, looking at Tony exasperated.

“What? Of course I did! He didn’t want it.”

Pepper face morphed into one of confusion as she turned to Wren. “Why didn’t you want to stay in the penthouse with us, sweetie?” 

Wren glared at her, “Because I’m not your sweetie. As soon as this bullshit blows over, I’m on the next flight to Spain. I have no intention of staying here or living in your shitty penthouse. Besides, I’m closer to the training room than you two are.”

“Hey, how about you don’t talk to her like that? That’s an idea. Oh, and did you mean the training room that you nearly died in this morning? Yeah, JARVIS told me all about your little work out routine,” Tony said, his tone sarcastic.

Wren put down the pancake he was eating and stared at Tony with a dangerous expression. 

“Okay, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but the next time you talk to me like that, you’re going to lose your tongue. I don’t mean that as a joke, I mean it as a ‘I’m going to take this knife and you’re going to lose your fucking tongue’, okay? You’re not my damn father and you can’t talk to me like I’m a disobedient child who just broke curfew. Save that shit for when you and your dearest Pepper have brats of your own. I’m too tired to deal with your shit and I just wanted to finish eating before people badger me with stupid fucking questions. Now, I’m going back to my room with my food and you bitches can all talk shit amongst yourselves until it’s time to go. Then, and only then, can you bother me, m’kay? Jesus fucking Christ.”

Wren stood up with his plate and cup of coffee in hand and stormed out of the kitchen/lounge area.

-

Wren sat crisscrossed in the grass, glaring at the birds pecking at the ground in front of him. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that Trad had the balls to come crawling back to BC Sol after he abandoned them for America. Trad didn’t understand the pain and hardship that he put them through- that he put Kris through. How could he come back like nothing happened? It made Wren angry. It made him absolutely livid.

“So, I guess you’re not taking this very well, huh?”

Wren jerked and snapped his gaze towards the voice. Free stood a couple steps behind him, blankly looking at clouds above them. They were grey and angry looking.

“You’re shaking,” Free observed, sitting down next to Wren, their knees touching. “And your eyes, they’re different.”

Wren looked at his hands. They were both shaking so much that it almost looked like they were vibrating. “Different?” Wren gritted out, “Different how?”

Free hummed, “They’re usually like a crystal; pale blue that’s lined with darker shades and hints of light green or yellow. Right now, they’re like a dark, navy blue color throughout. They look like Durago’s eyes.”

Wren scoffed, “How poetic.”

“Why are you so angry? Is it because Trad came back?” Free questioned, tilting his head, his blonde hair flopping to the side.

“He doesn’t have a place here anymore,” Wren growled, “He abandoned us when we needed him most and then he thinks that he can just come back? That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it worked for me,” Free said.

“It’s different with you. You were our not-so-secret weapon but you weren’t our BeyTrainer and your reasoning for leaving actually makes sense. Trad left because Kris didn’t listen to him after you went to America and instead of talking to her about it, he snapped at her and then left. Not only that, but he left while the team was going through some major changes. It would’ve been shitty for him to leave when we knew what we were doing but leaving when we have no clue? Leaving when we have to relearn to work together? Leaving when we needed him most just because Kris wasn’t listening to him? It’s childish at best and would’ve cost us the World Leagues at worst.”

Free listened quietly, eyes not leaving Wren’s.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Wren opened his mouth to argue but stopped, stunned at Free’s response. “Wait, what? You- you agree with me? Are you being serious?”

“Yeah,” Free said, “You’re angry because Trad left and that makes sense. All that other stuff doesn’t really matter.”

“Doesn’t matter? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Were you angry at me when I came back?”

“Of course I was!” Wren exclaimed, “You know that I was. I could barely look you in the eye, I was so pissed.”

“Are you sure it was anger?” Free smiled.

“I- I don’t-“ Wren paused.

He didn’t know how to answer that. When Free announced his departure, Wren was hurt. He was devastated that his new friend was going to leave and that there was nothing Wren could do about it. When Shu disappeared, Wren knew it had something to do with Ashtem and the Snake Pit and tried to convince Free to come back. All of his letters were met with silence. That should have made him angry but he was just terrified that Free was following in Shu’s footsteps. When Free came back, Wren was conflicted. He didn’t know how to feel. He was angry that Free was so chill about everything but he was relieved that Free was okay and finally back where he belonged- back at home. 

“You distanced yourself from me when I got back. At first, I thought you were mad but then I realized that you were just-“

“Scared,” Wren said, finally understanding Free’s point. “I was scared that you were going to leave again and, this time, you wouldn’t come back.”

“I don’t think you’re angry with Trad,” Free said, “I think that you believe all those things about him and I think that you’re taking it personally, especially since Kris leaned on you for help. You care a lot about this team, just like I do, and you saw its struggles first hand. You don’t want BC Sol to fall apart again and you’re scared that Trad coming back will be the start of its undoing.”

“That’s impressive,” Wren said, letting out a humorless laugh. “You should be a shrink or something.”

“People are like beys. They’re complex with their own strengths and weaknesses and I’ve learned how to observe both,” Free said, “Your eyes are back to normal; you’re not angry anymore.”

Wren nodded. He felt calm and lethargic, like he usually did when Free spoke. Free’s soft and knowing voice hugged him, making him feel safe and comfortable. 

Free was looking back up at the sky.

The clouds were white.

-

Wren had just finished his food when Steve came and told him that Tony and Pepper were ready to go. All Wren heard was that they were too cowardly to come themselves. 

The three of them got into one of Tony’s less flashy cars and started the half hour long drive to Queens. Tony was trying to be as discreet as possible with sunglasses and hats but it was pointless. Wren just hoped that no one would be paying attention. The last thing he wanted to experience was a horde of Tony Stark fans.

Wren sat in the back, staring out the window as Pepper and Tony quietly talked in the front. They were mostly discussing business related things like meetings that Tony needed to attend and the stock values for Stark Industries. Their chatter dissolved into hushed whispers and Pepper kept looking back at him. “If there’s something that you want to say to me, just say it. It’s barely started and I’m already sick of the looks.”

Pepper’s eyes widened in surprise. It was completely unwarranted, Wren wasn’t blind or stupid so of course he’d notice them. 

Tony sighed, “I’m sorry for my comments this morning. Afterwards, Pepper and I talked it out and we both understand why you’re so angry about everything.”

“Do you really? You understand?” Wren asked, raising an amused eyebrow and laughing coldly. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“You’re right,” Pepper spoke, “We couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through but we can acknowledge that it’s hard and that you’re going to lash out. But we are here to help you get through this-“

“You’re here to make sure that I’m not a flight risk and to provide a reason to keep me in America,” Wren said, his voice monotone and tired. “Look, I don’t care about the apology. I don’t need any of this. I don’t need the sympathy, I don’t need the attempts at empathizing, and I certainly don’t need the whole parent thing that the two of you are trying to do. I already had a father who tried to ruin my life and a mother who actually did it. Just, please, leave me alone.”

Pepper bit her lip, looking sad. She forced a smile and nodded, her voice getting caught in her throat. 

“Alright,” Tony said for her, “We’ll be at the mall soon. Rhodey said that he had a few things to handle before he could come so he’ll meet us there later. We’ll walk around for a little while and buy anything that makes us stop. It’s a big place so there will probably be a food court if we get hungry.”

‘Big’ was an understatement. 

The mall was made up of large boxes and rectangles. Indents and windows surrounded it, making it look like a fancy art project. The parking lot wrapped around the structure, filled with different kinds of vehicles. ‘Prosperity’ was written in big, red letters on the front, looped together gracefully (at least, Wren assumed it said Prosperity). It seemed like the outlet mall took up an entire block. The inside was even grander. Spacious and filled with levels, bridges hung over Wren’s head, overlapping and maze like. It was bright, the white floors and walls reflecting the strong lights and the sunlight shining through the glass ceiling. Light blue accents were everywhere. From stained glass to specific lights, the blue and white mixed nicely and, at the right angle, gave the illusion of moving water. Crowds of people milled in and out of the stores lining the walls, their chatter fading into white noise. 

Wren followed behind Tony and Pepper as they pointed out things in displays and browsed through the stores. They went through clothing stores, asking Wren for his opinion on various shirts, pants, and jackets. If his answer wasn’t a blunt no, Tony would buy it and have it sent to the compound. 

“We should go to a Hot Topic or Spencer’s for some other things. They have clothes and knick knacks that I’m sure will fit into your tastes,” Tony said to Wren, checking his phone. 

“That’s a great idea!” Pepper agreed, “I’m pretty sure there’s a Hot Topic on the second floor, which is perfect since we’re going there anyways.”

“Rhodey’s almost here so I’ll tell him to meet us there,” Tony said, texting while walking towards a nearby set of white stairs. 

They pushed past the crowds of people, Pepper leading the way. Wren lazily looked over the hundreds of store signs and advisements. He couldn’t understand a majority of them but the pictures were nice to look at. 

“I was so sure that it was over here,” Pepper mumbled to herself, taking out and looking over a map of the mall. 

“Maybe it’s on the other side?” Tony offered, looking over her shoulder.

Wren sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Through the garbled conversations, Wren distantly heard a song that he recognized. The beat, the lyrics, the singer. There was no doubt in his mind that one of the stores was playing Zac the Sunrise. Wren looked around, trying to focus on his hearing and pinpoint where the chorus was coming from. The stores closest to him ranged from more pop hits to classical. None of them being what he was looking for. 

Then he saw it.

A couple of meters ahead of Tony and Pepper was a store with red and blue walls and a cardboard cutout of a beyblade in the glass display. There was a sign hanging above the entrance, ‘Final Burst’ was printed in messy black letters that had a black and blue flame effect coming out of the ends. Wren grinned as he recognized the store. Both Shu and Free had recommended it to him multiple times, saying that he’d enjoy its contents if he ever went to America. Wren supposed now was as good a time as ever. 

Without saying a word, Wren walked towards it, catching the attention of Tony and Pepper.

“Hey, kid? Where ya going?” Tony asked.

Wren looked over his shoulder without stopping and smirked. “There’s actually something worth my time here.”

Pepper put the map back in her purse and fell in step with him, her black high heels clicking against the floor. Tony shrugged and followed suit. Wren turned back around and sped up a bit. Zac’s voice got louder and more coherent as Wren approached, making him smile a bit. 

He stood in front of the giant bey cutout, eyes lingering on the reds, golds, and blues of the bey. It was Xeno Xcalius, Xander Shakadera’s bey. Wren could recognize the iconic sword on the energy layer anywhere. It was a little outdated considering Xander had long since evolved his bey into Surge Xcalius but it was forgivable. The original was much more well known. 

“What is this place?” Pepper inquired, looking up at the sign. 

“It’s a beyblade store,” Wren answered simply, entering the shop. 

The store wasn’t extravagant but it didn’t look low budget either. The entire place was shaped like a backwards L. The register area was directly across from the entrance, a bey shaped blue rug between them. To the right of it, there were shelves covered in bey parts, launcher add-ons, and even books. Beys sat behind glass in cubed nooks along the walls, names and descriptions plastered right above them on little silver plaques. Launchers sat on the cushioned tops of display cases that held more beys. Adjacent to the wall behind the register was a door that Wren assumed was for storage or a room for staff only. There were black speakers placed in each corner of the store, Zac’s voice playing from each. Below them, posters were put up everywhere. Half of them were advertisements and prices for products in the store but rest of them were fan posters. He saw some for the Supreme Four, some for the Big Five, and even some for various teams around the world, including an old one for BC Sol. 

“Welcome to Final Burst, the best bey shop in all of New York. If you need any help finding specific bey parts or if you’re choosing your first bey, just let me know. I’m here to help,” the cashier said, sounding like he was reciting a line from a script. He looked to be a boy around Wren’s age. He was standing behind the register counter and slouched over a small laptop, typing away. He didn’t even look up as he spoke.

“Thank you,” Pepper said politely. 

Wren ambled through the aisles, picking up and inspecting the different items for quality. He could hear Tony and Pepper behind him, looking around as well. Wren picked up a stamina grip, one of the many launcher add-ons. Rantaro had a similar one that he stole from Trad back in Spain. This one was heavier and had a white stripe along it. 

“Holy shit,” the cashier was looking up at them. Tony sighed and went to take off his sunglasses, as if he’s done this a million times. “You’re Daiichi Wren, right? Part of BC Sol? The Last Spring?”

Wren looked the boy up and down. He had rectangular glasses that partially slipped down his nose, the thick frames covered part of his stormy blue eyes. He had bright red hair that was too red to be natural and strands of blue throughout. Blue hair curled around the bottoms of his ears and brought attention to the small black gauges in his earlobes. He was wearing a dark blue button up shirt with a black bey’s silhouette on the back and a pair of bright orange shorts. ‘Jeremy’ was written on the small, white name tag attached to the breast of his shirt. “Yeah, that’s me. You a fan?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He gripped his hair with both hands and started laughing hysterically as he walked around the counter. “Holy shit, man! I can’t believe it’s really you! I’ve been watching your battles on TV since I was, like, twelve. You and Durago are such an insane team. I’ve never seen a blader like you.”

Wren awkwardly smiled at him, not used to attention. “Thanks, Jeremy, I appreciate it. I’ve worked really hard to make sure that me and Durago are in sync.” 

“I can’t believe that Daiichi Wren knows my name and is in my store. This is crazy. Can I- oh my god! I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do to help? Are you looking for something or just browsing? God, I can’t believe I didn’t ask that already-“

“Actually,” Wren said, “You wouldn’t happen to have a TD06 performance tip, would you? Or maybe the tools to repair one? I could also use a D26 Chaos forge disc.”

“A DT06 performance tip? That’s a very rare- I don’t think- yeah, I don’t think we have that one,” Jeremy sputtered, quickly backtracking at Wren’s annoyed look. “But- but I think that we could fix it or-“

“I don’t need you to fix it,” Wren said, beginning to lose his patience. “If you don’t have the part, then give me the proper tools so that I can fix it. There’s no way I’m allowing a stranger to touch my bey.”

“Right, right, of course. I, uh, can go get that for you,” Jeremy said, rushing towards the back door. “And you said a D26 Chaos disc? I can find that for you too, just one second.”

Wren nodded as Jeremy stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Wren’s hand cupped Durago’s case and he used his middle finger to gently rub the button that opens it.

“So, you’re famous?” Pepper spoke up, her tone questioning and confused.

“He’s a world famous player for this beyblade game,” Tony said, “Its kind of like a sport but with spinning tops.”

“It’s almost as if asking your husband about his son or even just googling the name would give you simple information,” Wren muttered.

“Chill with the attitude, Daiichi,” Tony said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Wren. 

Wren was about to retort when Jeremy came out of the back room with a medium sized cardboard box. He put it on the register counter and opened it up. He began taking out the contents within it and placing them on the counter for Wren to see. 

“Sorry for the wait. I don’t usually handle backroom stuff, that’s Darren’s job. He called in sick though so I’m alone here,” Jeremy quickly explained, “Okay, so these are all tools typically used in low-end or smaller bey repair shops. Unfortunately, if you want industrial equipment then you’ll have to look somewhere else, probably online,” Jeremy put the tools in a neat line, adjusting them slightly every few seconds. “We have an electric laser thing that’s mostly used to melt the plastic and fix cracks in the energy layer and performance tip. We have some fine point screwdrivers and-“

“I’m no rookie, I know what they are and how they work. I’ll just take all of them,” Wren said, inspecting each tool individually. “And my forge disc?”

“Ah, yes!” Jeremy walked to a shelf that was closer to the entrance and full of bey parts. He looked at each one and grabbed a disc that looked identical to Durago’s, only the rubber wasn’t worn down. “Here you are.”

“Wonderful. How much will all of this cost?” Wren asked. 

“Uhh,” Jeremy placed all the tools back in the box and scanned a barcode on the side. Then he pushed in the identification numbers of the disc into his register and put the disc in its own, much smaller, box. “Your total is one hundred dollars and forty-four cents.”

Wren looked over at Tony with a knowing smile. Tony chuckled to himself, shaking his head, and swiped his card through the machine. Jeremy placed both boxes into a plastic bag with the Final Burst logo and name on it. Finally, he printed the receipt once Tony was done and stuffed it into the bag, handing it off to Wren.

“Thank you,” Wren said, hooking the bag around his left wrist.

“Yeah, of course, anything for Daiichi Wren,” Jeremy responded, grinning widely. “Oh and hey, if there’s anything that you need, and I mean anything, just let me know.”

“I might take you up on that,” Wren said, waving a brief goodbye and walking out the store, Tony and Pepper in tow.

“Alright, let’s find that Hot Topic before Rhodey starts blowing up my phone,” Tony said.

“Is that it?” Wren asked, pointing at a store on the other side of the level. He was pretty sure that the sign said Hot Topic but he’s been wrong before.

“Yes, it is. See, I told you it was up here. I know what I’m talking about,” Pepper remarked, striding across the bridge.

Tony laughed and jogged to keep up with her. Wren was much slower to follow. Tony might be fine with jogging or speed walking in shiny dress shoes but Wren refused to walk faster than he had to his in clunky boots. 

The lighting was dim inside the Hot Topic, a stark contrast between the bright lights of the mall. It made Wren uncomfortable. The store was cluttered with t-shirts and merchandise on stands. Posters covered the walls and music was playing on speakers. Tony and Pepper were already going through band t-shirts and laughing quietly with each other.

“Hello there,” a girl with bright pink hair greeted, “Can I help you?”

Wren cautiously walked in, scanning his surroundings. “Uh, no. I’m just browsing, I guess.”

“Oh!” she said with a smile, “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

Wren walked slowly between the tables, racks, and stands, glancing over the products that they held. He looked over bobble heads and belts, bags and hats, earrings and suspenders. There were so many random things on shelves and in corners. He saw a lot of items for a bunch of different anime. He saw snapback hats with jokes and vulgar words. He saw funky colored necklaces and lanyards.

He saw a shelf full of rainbows, blues, and pinks. There were white shirts and socks with rainbow hearts and necklaces that had lettering saying ‘love’ and ‘pride’ in different colors. Above it all hung a rainbow flag, gently flapping in the breeze created by the air conditioner.

Wren didn’t understand what any of this stuff was.

-

“I don’t understand,” Wren said, running a hand through his hair. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Wakiya said, “That you like boys. It’s not that hard.”

“But doesn’t everyone like boys? I don’t get it. Everyone likes boys and everyone likes girls, I thought that’s just how it worked,” Wren slumped down in his seat. He was confused. Really confused.

“This is different. Everyone like girls and boys in a friendly way, sure, but you’re not describing friendliness. These feelings you’re having about Shu are normal, so to speak. It’s just that most boys have those feelings towards girls and most girls have those feelings towards boys. It’s kind of hard to explain to someone who’s never had much human contact, let alone a crush.”

Wren frowned, “I still don’t understand.”

Wakiya sighed and crossed his arms, closing his eyes. He was quiet for a couple of minutes and the only sound that could be heard was Wakiya’s television in the background. 

“Can you describe to me how you feel about Xander?” Wakiya finally asked, opening his eyes again.

“I don’t know,” Wren shrugged, “I like being around him. He’s fun and treats me like he treats the other guys at his dojo. He ruffles my hair and checks in on me. He’s nice.”

“So, in other words, he feels like a brother to you,” Wakiya summed up.

“I guess so. I’ve never had a brother so I don’t know how that would feel.”

“Now, how do you feel around Shu?”

Wren smiled to himself, looking down at his lap. It was hard to describe his feelings about Shu. At first, Wren thought that he was just some lucky hotshot who had managed to make it to Nationals. He quickly learned, though, that his thoughts couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Daiichi?”

“Shu makes me feel important. He makes me feel warm and giddy. When I’m around him, I feel like I can do anything. He’s strong because he worked hard to be that way and even though he worked and worked, he never became cold or mean. He’s still just as kind, just as gentle, and just as sweet as he was when I first met him. He didn’t brag when I lost to him, he held out his hand and smiled at me. He told me that I was really good and that it was a fun battle. He said that I should keep training and that I could become something if I did. He makes me- he makes me nervous but it’s not in a bad way. I’m nervous about what he thinks of me and it gets worse when he looks at me. It’s like all the sudden I can’t think or move, I can barely even breathe... but it’s addicting. I just want to be around him all the time and I get really sad whenever I can’t,” Wren rambled. 

He wasn’t really thinking as he spoke, he just talked. Talking about Shu felt hard but it came so easily. It was spilling out of him like water but it was still so held back. He felt more than he understood and it was terrifying.

“Daiichi, that sounds like love.”

-

Wren heard loud footsteps behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Interesting stuff you’re looking at,”

Wren turned his head a bit to look at the person standing next to him. It was a middle aged black man with very short, dark hair that almost looked like it was shaved off. He had modern looking leg braces and stood up straight with his hands behind his back and his chin up. The posture, the hair, and the state of his dark green t-shirt and dark colored slacks led Wren to believe he was in the military or law enforcement. The higher leveled ones stuck out like sore thumbs among common folk.

“My friends call me Rhodey,” the man said, “Or Uncle Rhodey if that man gets his way.”

“Then I guess you know who I am,” Wren said, not taking his eyes off the rainbow flag. 

“Tony’s kid, right? Daiichi? Y’know, I was the first one he told when he found out. He was freaking out and telling me how unprepared he was. It was hilarious now that I think about it but it was quite the ordeal at the time.”

Wren stayed silent.

Rhodey suddenly laughed, reaching out and looking at a black shirt that said ‘why not both?’ in pink, purple, and blue. “We should get this for him. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“What does it mean?” Wren asked, frowning.

“It means that I’ve walked in on him with both men and women way too many times,” Rhodey said with a half smile. “It means that he loves both.”

“Oh,” Wren looked back at the flag, “I see.”

“I’m sure Tony would get one for you,” Rhodey said, subtly pointing to the flag. “I’m sure he’d get any of this stuff for you if you wanted.”

Wren scoffed, “No thanks. I was just looking.”

Rhodey looked like he didn’t believe him but didn’t argue. “Well, I think I’m going to get this shirt for Tony.”

After they finished up in Hot Topic, the group went to the rest of the stores on that floor and bought a couple thousand dollars worth of items before deciding to head to the food court for an early dinner. Wren’s stomach was growling, his appetite growing the more he walked. He really wanted some shitty American ripoffs of Chinese and Japanese food and to eat until he passed out.

“Do you want me to hold that?” Rhodey asked as they walked, referring to Wren’s Final Burst bag. He’d swapped it so he could carry it with his right hand and it was really pulling at his shoulder, making it ache and spike in pain with every step. He hadn’t found a way to subtly switch again without Tony giving him the side eye.

“Uh, no, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Wren said, wincing. 

Rhodey ignored him and took the bag from his hand, relieving the pressure almost instantly. Wren sighed through his nose and massaged the burning ache with his hand. Pepper and Tony didn’t seem to notice the exchange, too busy arguing over what they wanted to eat. Tony wanted burgers but Pepper wanted something more healthy or, at the very least, not as greasy.

“Daiichi Wren!” a voice called out, gaining the attention of the group.

There was a boy, shorter and younger than Wren. He was wearing a baggy grey hoodie with a handful of circular pins on its rectangular front pocket. Black ribbons crisscrossed the outer part of his sleeves like a shoelace. Different sized rings adorned his fingers and the top part of his hair was covered by a black baseball cap. He was wearing light grey jeans with a chain hanging from his front and back pockets on his left side. He had black hair that didn’t look particularly maintained but was still cut short in the back. The hair leading to his sideburns was longer than the rest, framing his face with fluffy hair that went just below his chin, the bottom half of both sides being dyed white.

“My name is Kayden Turner and I challenge you to a battle!” he said, thrusting up a hand that gripped a bey, the energy layer facing Wren. It was nothing special, a plain looking bey that was colored with shades of red.

Wren cocked his head to the side, “Are you being serious?”

“Of course I am! I’m the greatest blader in the world and I’m here to prove it,” Kayden claimed proudly, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Oh, you’re one of those bladers,” Wren said blankly, “Sorry, I don’t do random public battles with kids who don’t know a thing about beyblade.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! I know about beyblade! I’m a pro!” Kayden shouted, turning a few heads in his heads direction.

“It means,” Wren said slowly, “That you’re not worth my time.”

“You’re all talk, Daiichi Wren. There’s a stadium over there,” Kayden pointed to a group of kids battling in a standard bey stadium. “If you don’t accept my challenge then you’re proving that you’re not as good as they say you are. You don’t deserve to be among the greatest.”

Wren let out an annoyed sigh. He didn’t mind battling bladers who clearly weren’t on par with him but he absolutely despised baby bladers who thought that they were something they weren’t. This kid was trying to be the best, like any blader, and Wren couldn’t hold that against him. He knew how that felt and he’d been around so many low level kids who were working and dreaming for that title. Some of which actually turned into world renowned bladers. However, once you start claiming that Wren didn’t deserve his spot or that he didn’t work hard to get it, that’s when he starts having a problem.

“Fine.”

Kayden jumped in delight, fist pumping the air before running over to the group of kids and telling them to scatter. Wren took his time walking, irritated that some baby blader was smack talking his credibility. 

“Hey, kid?” Tony spoke up, “Don’t know if you forgot about us but-“

“This will only take a minute,” Wren drawled, “You can watch or stay here, I don’t really care.”

Wren grabbed the box containing his forge disc from the Final Burst bag that Rhodey was still holding and took his spot across from Kayden. He pushed the button on his bey case, ejecting Durago into the air. He caught it and fiddled with it until it burst into three parts. He really shouldn’t be battling with how cracked and busted Durago was but he could probably win this with a quick burst, lessening the chances for more damage. He switched out the forge discs and put Durago back together. Wren dramatically took out his launcher and attached Durago to the end, crouching into form. 

“This is gonna be a piece of cake,” Kayden said, taking his own stance.

Wren took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on his launcher, stabilizing it. Everything around him faded away; the lights, the crowds, Tony and the others standing off to the side. The only thing he focused on was the stadium and his connection with Durago.

“Alright, ready?” Kayden smirked.

“Three! Two! One! Let it rip!” they both grunted as they yanked back the end of the ripper, sending their beys flying into the stadium. Wren felt his shoulder flare up in pain, making him cry out and drop his launcher so he could grip it. He cursed to himself at its meaning.

“Are you alright, Daiichi?” Pepper asked, taking a step forward.

“He’s fine,” Kayden answered, a fiery glint in his eyes. “He wouldn’t have agreed to a battle if he wasn’t.”

That wasn’t true but Wren wasn’t going to argue against it. He nodded in agreement and focused back on the battle, his hand not moving from his shoulder. Kayden’s bey had bounced a couple times before wobbly smashing into the side of the bowl. Kayden didn’t hold his launcher evenly towards the stadium, his grip wasn’t steady enough, and he jerked the ripper too hard. It resulted in a failed launch. It was such a rookie move that Wren didn’t think the kid even had the fundamentals down. Durago, in contrast, was spinning strong considering the shattered performance tip and reckless launch. It was significantly slowly and weaker than it normally would be but that was okay, Wren could still work with it. 

“Durago, end this now,” Wren said, picking up his launcher and putting it back in its case with one swift movement. Durago sped towards Kayden’s bey, its left rotation giving it a surplus of power as it rammed the opposing bey head on.

“What? Why is going clockwise around the stadium? It’s supposed to go the opposite!” Kayden exclaimed, panic in his voice.

Wren scoffed, “So you know my name and face but you don’t know a thing about my bey? And you actually thought you could win? I can’t tell if you’re a fucking moron or just arrogant.” 

Kayden’s bey was putting up much more of a fight than Wren was expecting. He figured the bey would burst and the battle would be over but it was doing fairly well at holding off Durago’s attack. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he had been given time to make repairs.

Wren growled to himself. This battle was really getting on his nerves. “Durago, destroy it!”

Durago looped around and started pushing back against Kayden’s bey. Kayden wasn’t done, though. Wren watched as that fiery glint sparked and the boy’s blader’s spirit ignited. His bey reacted accordingly, glowing its own orange color and fending off Durago’s attack. Wren had to admit that the kid had potential. If he wasn’t so annoyingly confident in abilities that he didn’t possess, Wren might have had a little bit of respect for him. 

Unfortunately for Kayden, that potential was nothing compared to Wren’s raw strength.

Durago glowed teal as it looped around Kayden’s bey once again. It landed a massive blow to its opponent, sparks flying as the two beys ground against each other. Durago shifted slightly, the crack in its energy layer hitting Kayden’s bey directly and getting caught in one of the grooves, hooking it and throwing it off balance.

“Perfect,” Wren muttered to himself with a grin. “Hit it while its weak! Now, Durago!”

Durago smashed through Kayden’s bey, sending all three pieces clattering towards the center of the stadium. Kayden gasped and fell to his knees, whimpering pathetically to himself about how he couldn’t have lost. Wren huffed and watched as Durago used the side of the stadium as a ramp and came flying towards him. He caught it with his left hand, wincing at the movement.

“Here’s some tips from an actual professional,” Wren started, gaining Kayden’s attention. “First off, get a better bey. Yours looks like it was manufactured twenty-five years ago and that’s just not going to work in a world full of constantly evolving beys. Second, learn how to blade. Your launch was off and your form is terrible. If you want to make anything of yourself, you have to learn the basics. Third, don’t challenge or agree to battles with bladers that you don’t know until you gain some strength. You challenging me to a battle was fucking stupid because there was no way you could win, but it’s even worse that you have no idea what fucking rotation my bey has. Weak bladers can’t win with pure strength so you have to learn to strategize, you idiot. Lastly, do some fucking training for God’s sake. You obviously have no idea what you’re doing and it’s pathetic.”

Kayden scowled, “I don’t need you telling me what I have to do.”

“Yeah, you do,” Wren laughed coldly, “I beat you within a couple of minutes with a fucked up shoulder and a shattered performance tip. I had so many disadvantages and so many weaknesses and you still lost. That tells me that you’re not even ready to battle with kids at the park, let alone in the big leagues. Figure your shit out, Kayden, or you’re not going to get very far.”

Wren put Durago back in its case and left Kayden on the floor, walking off in the direction that the group had been traveling before the boy’s interruption. He looked over his shoulder at Tony, Pepper, and Rhodey with a raised eyebrow. “Well? Are you coming?”

-

“So, you want to train at my dojo, is that right?” Xander asked, his hands on his hips. He had a big toothy grin on his face and he towered over Wren, who was already considered tall for a ten year old. 

“I heard that you’re one of the best in Japan, which makes this place the best to train in,” Wren said, trying to subtly make himself look bigger by squaring his shoulders and standing on the front of his feet.

“So you just want to train with Xander because he’s a Supreme Four member, you don’t care about the dojo,” Yugo, Xander’s right hand man, accused. He was scowling with his arms crossed.

“The Shakadera Dojo is known for its greatness,” Wren said, looking pointedly at Yugo. “I want that greatness and, in the meantime, I want to defeat Xander and the rest of the Supreme Four. That’s the whole reason that I came here.”

Xander stroked his chin, thoughtfully humming. “Fair enough, you can join,” he said, throwing back his head and laughing loudly.

“B-but Xander,” Yugo sputtered, dropping his arms. “Are you sure this is a good idea? He’s just some kid-“

“So? If he can keep up, he can stay. If he can’t keep up, he can leave. It’s that simple, Yugo. That’s just how I run my dojo.”

“I can keep up,” Wren said, holding his chin high with a defiant look in his eye. 

Xander smirked, “Good, that’s what I liked to hear. Yugo, go find Quon, we’re starting now.”

Yugo nodded curtly and ducked out of the room. Xander turned back to Wren and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. Wren stared at the contact, the positive touch foreign.

Xander suddenly looked serious. He looked Wren in the eye and started speaking lowly. “This isn’t going to be easy. We train really hard here and it’s going to be physically and probably mentally exhausting. If you’re ready for that, great, but if you aren’t, you can leave. No one is going to judge you or anything.”

Before Wren could respond, Xander walked towards the archway that Yugo had just gone through. He stopped at the edge of the wood flooring, one step and he’d be outside. He looked back at Wren with a playful grin.

“So,” Xander said, “Are you coming?”

-

“Jesus, kid, that was brutal,” Tony commented once they caught up with Wren.

“Yeah, I don’t think you had to be that harsh,” Rhodey said. 

“I wasn’t harsh,” Wren argued, “I was truthful and gave the kid actual tips that will help him in the long run. Trust me, he’ll be thanking me once he’s stronger.”

“What about your shoulder,” Pepper spoke up, “Is it alright?”

Wren barely spared her a glance. “It’s fine, trust me. I just can’t properly launch again for like a week or something. I’ll just work on repairs and mess around with my new tools.”

“And your room?”

“Well, gee, I wonder. I live in a compound full of people who are fully capable of lifting heavy things and there’s an AI in the walls that can control all the metal suits collecting dust in storage. I’m sure I can figure something out, thanks.”

Wren rolled his shoulders, locking up when pain shot up his spine and spiked all around the muscles of his shoulder. A strangled cry ripped itself from his throat. Wren went down on one knee, his legs unsteady as his shoulder throbbed.

“Kid?” Tony kneeled down next to him, inspecting the injury without touching it. “What’s going on, JARVIS?” he muttered to himself, his sunglasses lighting up.

Wren could distantly hear JARVIS’ voice in Tony’s earpiece but he couldn’t make out any words. Rhodey stood above them with his phone in his hand, ready to call for help. Pepper kneeled down on Wren’s other side, gently rubbing his back. Wren narrowed his eyes at her but was in too much pain to jerk away. 

“Okay, it seems that your muscle contusion turned into a muscle strain,” Tony said, “In other words, you tore it.”

Wren gritted his teeth, “Yeah, already knew that.”

“What kind of tear are we looking at? Is he going to need surgery?” Rhodey asked, waving away the curious eyes of the public.

“JARVIS can’t tell so we’re probably gonna have to get him back to Banner in order to find out,” Tony answered, “Guess we’re gonna be cutting this shopping trip a little bit short.”

“That’s okay,” Pepper softly reassured, “We can come back later. How are we going to move him?”

Wren couldn’t speak. He felt like he was frozen underwater. The pain was all too familiar to him and, suddenly, the bright lights of the mall were dim. Suddenly, there was silence. Suddenly, all he could feel was the feeling of rope around his right bicep, Ashtem’s disappointed gaze, and the pitying looks of the five best bladers in the experiment.

Not again. He couldn’t go through with it again. The first time broke him and nearly ended his blading career before it even started. He was trapped in that goddamn room, shrouded in darkness and pain. He couldn’t hear himself think through the sobs and he could hardly breathe, his chest was too tight and his throat was more concerned letting out shrill screams that shredded his vocal cords. There were hands on him, making him thrash and panic. He just wanted the rope off and he wanted his arm to stop hurting.

Please.

“Daiichi!”

Wren’s eyes shot open, bleary with tears. He was shaking. Rhodey was crouching in front of him, one hand on Wren’s good shoulder and one on his knee. 

Wren frantically looked around with wide eyes. He wasn’t in the room anymore. He was outside, sitting in a corner. The sun was bright and shining above him, the clouds almost nonexistent. Tony was off to the side, looking pale. He was breathing hard, like he was struggling to catch his breath. 

“Wha-?” Wren felt like his head was full of cotton.

“You started screaming and freaking out so we carried you outside. Pepper went to go get the car and Tony-“ Rhodey paused his hushed explanation, “He freaked out a little too. Are you okay?”

Wren opened his mouth but only a small sob came out. He just shook his head, tears beginning to fall. He shook his head faster and faster, his hair flopping back and forth. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Rhodey muttered, reaching up and pulling Wren forward, pressing his head against the man’s chest, keeping it still. “Pepper’s gonna be here soon and we’ll take you to Banner, okay? He’ll fix up your arm. It’s going to be okay.”

A black car screeched to a stop right next to them, the windows rolling down to reveal a very worried Pepper. “Get him in the car and I can get us back to the compound in twenty-five minutes without getting a ticket.” 

“Or we could call an ambulance like I was suggesting,” Rhodey said.

Tony sighed, rubbing his face under his sunglasses. “No time, we gotta get him to Bruce, fix him up, and then figure out what the hell that was back there. Can he walk or do we have to carry him?”

“You mean do I have to carry him,” Rhodey muttered.

Wren wasn’t going to be able to move very much and he figured that Rhodey knew as much. Rhodey gently picked Wren up, trying not to jostle his arm too much. Wren clung to him with his good arm, quietly hyperventilating.

“Tony?” Rhodey called, motioning his head towards the backseat door.

Tony rushed to open it, tapping his foot impatiently as Rhodey struggled to get in while carrying Wren. Tony slammed the door shut once they were adjusted comfortably in the back causing Wren to jerk at the loud noise. Rhodey rubbed soothing circles into the sides of Wren’s thighs. Tony said something outside of the car, Wren assumed to JARVIS, and then opened the passenger door, slipping in as he spoke. 

“Yeah, we’re on our way,” Tony said, pausing for a few seconds. “Uhh, Pepper says twenty-five minutes so assume that we’ll be there in twenty.”

Wren realized that Tony was in a phone call just as Pepper pushed her foot on the gas and sped out of the parking lot. 

“Yeah, lemme ask him,” Tony said, turning back to face Wren and Rhodey. “Banner wants to know if Daiichi can move his arm.”

“No, I can’t,” Wren croaked, “But it’s just a grade one tear and I don’t need surgery. Tell your doctor that I fucked up my arm when I was young and I haven’t been right since, causing it to be more prone to injury and I think I get chronic pain but I don’t really know.” Wren said, wheezing slightly throughout as he tried to regulate his breathing better. Every word hurt and he was lightheaded by the end but he felt the need to explain. 

“Did you get that Bruce?” Tony asked, “Great, thanks. We’ll be there soon.”

“How many times has this happened?” Pepper asked, glancing back and forth from the road to the rearview mirror.

“I lost count after I hit one hundred,” Wren groaned, “This happens a lot.”

“Because you’re a blader?” Rhodey guessed. 

“Because I’m a blader, because I train too much, because I don’t know when to stop. There’s a bunch of reasons,” Wren let out a shaky yawn and rested his head in the crook of Rhodey’s neck. “It’s not that big a deal. Grade one strains only take a couple weeks to heal. Grades two and three are much worse. I have a lot of experience with blading related injuries and all that other bullshit and this isn’t that bad.”

-

“Shu, trust me, okay? I know a lot about Blader’s Break and you should really be resting,” Wren insisted, jogging to keep up with Shu’s quickened pace.

He’d caught the other boy coming out of the hospital multiple times and rushed to question him. At first, Shu insisted that it was just some standard check up but, as he kept getting caught, he eventually came clean about the pain in his shoulder.

“That’s not happening,” Shu said, “I’m going to the finals.”

“It’s just a district tournament,” Wren argued, “You know that if you lose or withdraw, you get another chance at going to Nationals by winning at Regionals.”

“That is, if I get chosen,”

“As if they wouldn’t choose a member of the Supreme Four, are you kidding? It’ll give you time to rest and then you can win, go to Nationals, and defeat Lui Shirosagi. It’s a foolproof plan! I don’t understand why you’re making everything so difficult!” Wren exploded, gesturing his hands wildly. 

“It’s not just about Lui or Nationals,” Shu stopped and whipped around to face Wren. “I promised Valt that I would meet him in the finals and I don’t ever break my promises.”

“So this is about Valt?” Wren scoffed, “Are you serious? You’re going to potentially destroy your career because of that blue haired idiot? Would you really ruin everything him?”

“Yes, I would,” Shu answered seriously, “That blue haired idiot is my best friend and the reason I got into beyblade, Wren. I’m not going to break my promise to him just because my shoulder hurts a bit.”

“Then you’re an idiot too,” Wren said, annoyed.

“Maybe I am, but at least I’m an idiot with good friends.”

-

Wren spent the rest of the drive with his eyes closed, teetering in and out of consciousness. Rhodey continuously ran his hand through Wren’s hair throughout the ride, petting and playing with it.

Pepper, true to her word, got them back to the compound in a record breaking, and probably law breaking, eighteen minutes. Bruce Banner was already there, waiting at the entrance with an off white button up shirt, a classy brown jacket, and a pair of thinly framed glasses. Behind him was a handful of people in dark colored scrubs and an empty stretcher.

“This is a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Wren muttered.

“Maybe,” Rhodey relented, “But it’s warranted.”

Pepper drifted towards the curb, slamming hard on the breaks and making the car jerk as she parallel parked. It reminded Wren of that race car movie that took place in Japan, even though it was filmed in California. Tony hopped out and opened the car door for Rhodey. Bruce stepped over and reached in, taking Wren from Rhodey’s arms.

“It’s not that bad,” Wren mumbled, “Stop touching me.”

“Sorry, Daiichi, but I can’t trust the medical opinion of a sixteen year old and if you can’t move it, the chances of it being a grade three tear just get higher,” Bruce said, laying Wren down on the stretcher and signaling his team with a hand motion.

Wren groaned as the stretcher bumped and jerked against the cracks in the sidewalk.

“Careful with the merchandise, guys,” he muttered, “It’s worth more than all of your lives put together.”


	3. remembering sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the filler but that kinda comes with the beginning of a story ahh  
Also I’m writing all of this on mobile and using italics and bold for things like text messages is practically impossible so I’m sorry about that too  
I’m not really happy about this chapter bc of the issues I was having about the bolds and italics and also bc I thought it was too boring but what can you do

He was losing his mind. 

Wren had nightmares, as most kids did until they grew up and realized that the boogeyman doesn’t exist. Only, his boogeyman did exist and it did its damnedest to make sure that Wren knew it. They had always been apart of his life, only barely fading in recent months. There wasn’t really a time when Wren didn’t have nightmares of the horrors that he’d experienced as a child. There wasn’t really a time when blood curdling screams weren’t in his ears or when freezing water didn’t rush through his chest as he jerked awake.

Getting nightmares while he was awake, though? That was a new one.

It all felt so real. The image was so vividly clear that it was like he was seven years old again. He half expected to see Ashtem’s face instead of Tony’s every time he looked over. His heartbeat would thump loudly at every glimpse and it took a lot of bug-eyed staring in order to convince himself that Ashtem wasn’t there, it was just Tony Stark.

Wren felt like his head was clogged with water, splashing around every time he moved and drowning his brain painfully. Ever since he arrived in America, it was just one thing after another and he was so damn tired. 

-

“You’re still awake,” Xander commented, watching Wren with an amused expression.

Wren couldn’t sleep. He was haunted by his own ghosts and it left him constantly on edge. His eyes burned with exhaustion but he couldn’t close them, he wouldn’t close them. He hardly spared Xander a glance as he crouched down in front of the stadium, launcher in hand. “Yeah, so are you.”

“Felt like something was off, turns out I was right,” Xander, taking a few slow steps forward. 

“Nothing’s off,” Wren said, “I just couldn’t sleep so I decided to get some training done. Is that a problem?” Wren launched, Discord Durago landed shakily and made its way for the center. Wren’s launch wasn’t stable, his hands were unsteady and trembling.

“Its a problem when it’s fourth time this week,” Xander said, crossing his arms. “It’s a problem when you’re wearing yourself out to the point where it affects your ability to blade.”

Durago fell to the side, clinking a bit as it bounced against the stadium floor and came to a stop. Wren grit his teeth as he scowled in irritation. “It’s not affecting anything.”

“I think it’s affecting everything. Quon and Yugo agree with me too,” 

“Since when do you guys talk about me behind my back?” Wren asked, affronted. 

“Since you’ve decided to run yourself to the ground. I don’t know where you started your training, Wren, but that’s not how we do things here. Your health is my top priority and I’m not going to let you do this to yourself,” Xander reached forward and snatched Wren’s launcher from his hand.

“Xander, what the hell, man?!”

“Grab Durago and go to sleep. You can sleep in your bed or in mine or Quon’s, I don’t care. Just get some sleep,” Xander’s voice was surprisingly soft. “We’ll pick this up tomorrow and you can yell at everyone then, okay?”

Wren sighed, resigned. He picked up his bey and pocketed it, walking past Xander and heading towards Quon’s room. He suddenly stopped, not facing Xander.

“I had a nightmare,” he explained simply.

Xander smiled sadly, “I know.”

-

Bruce had examined his arm, testing mobility and gently pushing his gloved fingers against it to see how far the strain went. He took x-rays, looking for and not finding any tears in Wren’s rotator cuffs, as if Wren couldn’t have told him that. The entire thing took hours of his life that he’d never get back and determined what he already knew: his arm was going to be fine with some rest and should be back to normal within a couple of weeks.

‘The medical opinion of a sixteen year old can’t be trusted’ his ass.

Despite the bit of condescension that was found in most adults he dealt with, Wren quite liked Bruce. He was a quiet, intelligent man with a calming presence. He seemed to shrink in on himself a bit and radiated nervous energy when he was talking to people but he was confident and comfortable while working. The man stuttered through an explanation that he wasn’t an actual medical doctor but Wren couldn’t care less. Bruce did a well enough job wrapping Wren’s arm and icing it, better than most of the unskilled teenagers that Wren’s had to rely on in the past.

When all was said and done, Tony pulled Wren to the side and quietly questioned him about his meltdown in the mall. Wren scowled and refused to answer, none of it was anyone’s business except for Wren’s and he didn’t have to say shit.

They didn’t talk about it for an entire week. 

Wren spent a majority of his time in his now decorated room. Everything that had been bought at the mall had arrived the day after and Wren had reluctantly asked Steve and Rhodey for help with the larger tasks that he couldn’t do himself. The two men were the most tolerable out of everyone that Wren had met and had established more of a connection with him, even if it was as simple as cutting fruit or carrying him during his daytime nightmare. He deemed them safe enough to do things like paint and help set up furniture. 

Wren had JARVIS order the rest of the things he needed online, forgoing any question about prices because he really didn’t care and he still struggled a bit with American currency. By the time the room was actually done to Wren’s liking, even if it wasn’t all that complete, he’d spent roughly five and a half days getting it together. 

Throughout it all, he almost never left the confines of the familiar four walls. He’d only ever go out whenever JARVIS told him that food was being prepared or whenever he wanted coffee, but he never stuck around for very long. Tony and the others seemed fine with leaving him alone, probably figuring that Wren was an angsty teenager who would eventually get used to everything going on. Occasionally, Tony would stick his head in and tell Wren that Bruce wanted to do a check up on his arm but, otherwise, Wren just socialized with JARVIS. 

During his escapades to the kitchen, Wren managed to meet the rest of the Avengers, the ones who lived at the compound at least. Sam was a chill guy who nodded his head politely at Wren’s sudden appearance for morning coffee, but otherwise hadn’t said much. Wanda was a pretty girl closer to his own age with a Sokovian accent and a sweet smile. He met her after another failed attempt to sneak into the kitchen. She tried to talk to him but Wren hardly responded, making his sandwich and slinking back into his room for another twelve hours.

Once the room was done, he started going down the rest of his mental checklist of things to do. He had about two hours until Ms. Wilma would show up for evaluations, and then his time would be taken up by an onslaught of badgering adults asking irrelevant questions.

He did Durago’s repairs first at his new, L-shaped desk while watching BeyNews on the empty half of the window wall, curtsy of JARVIS. Nothing major seemed to be happening in the beyblade world. Run of the mill tournaments were being thrown across Japan, preparing for the greatly anticipated district tournaments. The World Leagues had been announced to be in motion but they had not yet set a date for bladers to prepare for. It was the standard, boring news that Wren had, unfortunately, expected. 

With Durago back in shape, his next course of action was digging out a piece of paper and a black pen, scribbling down Japanese symbols on the front and back. He didn’t know if Lui even got his letters, lot alone actually read them, but it was therapeutic to write and Wren liked to think that Lui would enjoy them anyway. Wren wrote about his mother, harsh scribbles that were barely legible. He wrote about his suspension from BC Sol, sad strokes filled with understanding words and soaked with a twinge of betrayal. He wrote about how he was surrounded by people yet he felt like he was isolated on a desert island, poetic words scrawled where he could fit them. He filled the front and back with characters describing his afflictions, the nightmares and injuries. Whispers that weren’t his own plagued him, forcing him to remember what he’d tried so hard to forget.

By the end, tears dropped onto the paper as his pen moved frantically.

-

“Kris, you can’t be serious,” Wren said, voice high with panic.

“I am,” Kris said firmly, “From this point on, you’re suspended from BC Sol for a minimum of two weeks.”

“On what grounds? Kris, you can’t just suspend me because they want me back in America-“

“On the grounds of insubordination,” Kris asserted, “You are legally required to go back to America and deal with the aftermath of your choices. As the owner of this team, I have requested over and over that you go and handle it but you continuously refuse.”

Wren threw his hands into the air and barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? My choices? I was ten years old, Kris. I was ten and had no idea how immigration laws worked. Hell, I didn’t know how laws worked. Besides, I didn’t even break any in America, I broke them in Japan and Spain so my legal cases should take place here.”

“Yes, they should,” Trad agreed, speaking up for the first time since the argument started. “But your father is a very well known man and pulled a lot of strings in order to transfer it to America so he can help you more. Even if you were only ten, negligence isn’t an excuse for illegal transport over country borders multiple times.”

“Negligence isn’t an excuse? Are you fucking kidding me?!” Wren snarled, “I was ten years old and forced into Japan without knowledge that I was doing anything wrong. I didn’t know that traveling to Spain and America and all the other places I’ve been to was illegal because no one has said otherwise! How is it my fault that the law is shit and they’re all incapable of doing their fucking jobs? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Wren, that’s enough,” Kris said, a warning in her voice. “The point is that you have to go and you won’t if you’re apart of the team because you’re stubborn and don’t want to leave. I’m trying to help you here, Wren. You have no choice. If you refuse to leave, they’ll probably charge you with even more. The team will be here when you’re done-“

“Fuck you,” Wren snapped, frustrated tears welling in his eyes. “Fuck you both. I carried this team from the fucking dirt after that asshole-“ Wren pointed at Trad, “-left and you lost your best blader. After all that, you fucking suspend me instead of having my back?”

“Wren, we do have your back-“

“Clearly fucking not,” Wren retorted, running a hand through his hair.

-

Wren folded the letter into thirds and slipped it into an envelope that he swiped from Steve’s office the night before. He filled out the necessary information on the front and tucked it away to send off later. 

Wren sat in his swivel chair with his shoulders slumped. He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, wiping away his tears. He sniffled as he stood up. He needed to get ready for Ms. Wilma and he could use the distraction. She’d mentioned something about bringing a psychologist or something. Wren didn’t feel the need to dress up for them but he wanted to look more presentable.

Wren’s eyes wondered over to his flip phone. The little thing had been at the bottom of his bag and he’d spent the better part of his morning charging it at his desk while he worked. The grip of sorrow around his heart squeezed tighter, making him frown. He reached over and flipped it open, using the buttons to go through his messages. Wren had a small list of contacts made up of people who he trusted with his life. The most notable was his most recent, nicknamed Carmesí.

To Carmesí 

Hey havent talked to u in a sec. u ok?

Sun, June 14, 7:09 pm

To Carmesí

Ur seriously scaring me. u never go over 24 hours without answering. pls let me know that ur ok

Wed, June 17, 4:21 am

To Carmesí

Talked to fubuki, he told me that ur ok and just avoiding me thats fine do whatever u want idc

Sat, June 20, 5:00 pm

To Carmesí

Im really sorry just pls stay safe. idk what id do without you i love u

Sun, June 21, 1:46 am

To Carmesí

I will come to america if u need me to just let me know

Thurs, June 25, 2:12 pm

To Carmesí

Theyre sending me to america bc my dad is there or whatever. kris kicked me off the team idk what to do

Fri, Oct 7, 5:27 pm

Wren typed a new message.

To Carmesí

Really sucks in america rn. got into a lot of legal trouble ig with everything that happened and now im staying with my dad and i just miss u so much i miss everyone so much and it just hurts

Thurs, Oct 13, 11:34 am

To Carmesí

Gonna call fubuki on sat at 5 as usual hope he says ur ok  
I love u shu <3

Thurs, Oct 13, 11:36 am

Wren sniffled and snapped the flip phone closed, putting it back on his desk. He took a deep breath and slid the mirror door of his closet to the right, pulling open a red drawer and grabbing an oversized pale pink sweatshirt. It had slightly faded roses along the sleeves and cliche phrases written in little white Japanese characters on the front and back with the English translations written under it in parentheses. It screamed soft American aesthetic but Shu liked it enough to buy it online a couple months prior to his disappearance. He’d given it to Wren after a month and a half of wearing it as a silent promise to return after he’d decided to go back to America. It was a sweet gesture and one of the last times Wren saw him in person. 

Wren slipped it on over his ratty wife beater. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a pair of mismatching socks with it, figuring that it was good enough. He had no reason to impress and he was exhausted. The day had just started and he was already sick of it. He had a bad feeling in his chest when he thought about the day ahead of him and it was freaking him out a little bit.

-

Wren anxiously crossed his arms, “I don’t know if this is a good idea, Shu.”

Shu glanced back up, locking eyes with Wren as he packed away clothing into a suitcase on his bed. He had a soft, understanding smile on his face and his eyes were warm and gentle. “I know you don’t, Wren.”

“I just mean,” Wren sighed, “America isn’t a good place for you. It’s not a good place for anyone, really. It’s screwed over every single person who’s gone there for greatness. You, Free, Trad-“

“Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Carnegie, Albert Einstein, Joseph Pulitzer,” Shu said, motioning his head as he listed off names. “There have been plenty of people from all over the world who reached greatness in America. I’m not even going for greatness anymore, you know that.”

“I know, I know, but this is worse. You’re actively seeking out Ashtem and trying to shut down the Snake Pit. Do you get how impossible that is? Do you get how dangerous that is? Ashtem isn’t someone that you want to mess with, Shu. Digging up dirt on him isn’t going to be easy,” Wren insisted, putting both hands on the suitcase, stopping Shu’s actions. 

“That’s why I have to go,” Shu reasoned, “I have to make sure that Theodore Glass never sees the light of day. I need to make sure that he will never hurt another person, another child, ever again. I need to make sure that he never does what he did to you, or me, ever again. I can’t sleep knowing that he’s still out there, that the Snake Pit is still functioning. I can’t just sit around and let it happen, Wren. You of all people should understand that.”

“And I do,” Wren said calmly, “I do, trust me, I do. But messing with Ashtem? That’s a death sentence, Shu, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to split up like this. I mean, you’re going to America, Lui’s going to Everest, Zac’s still in Japan but he’s going on tour soon, Free and I will be in Spain, Xander in Brazil, Quon is God knows where, and we’re scattered like- like stray cats! If you fuck with Ashtem and he targets you, he’s going to go after everyone and everything that you love and we’re scattered like CATS!” Wren’s tone got more and more panicked as he spoke. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. 

“All of this could be avoided if you’d just tell me what you know,” Shu said, desperation in his tone. “You’re protecting him, Wren. You know something that could completely destroy him, and yet, you won’t tell anyone.”

“I can’t!” Wren exclaimed, “I can’t tell anyone. I’m not protecting shit, Shu! I just can’t-“ Wren’s voice cracked.

Shu was quiet for a few seconds before turning towards an end table with drawers, opening one and pulling out a small, grey flip phone. He opened it and pushed the buttons for a couple of minutes before handing it off to Wren.

“I put my personal in there, as well as Fubuki’s,”

“Why would I want your protege’s number?” Wren asked, confused. He held the phone awkwardly in outstretched hands.

“Just in case you need to contact me, but I don’t answer,” Shu said, “But I will always answer, okay? If there’s an emergency, text me, uh, bongo. Text me bongo and I’ll be on my way as soon as possible.”

“Bongo?” Wren laughed quietly, “Why bongo?”

“I don’t know,” Shu admitted with a laugh of his own, “It’s just the first thing that popped into my head and it proves that, even though this is something that I have to do, it doesn’t mean that I’m leaving forever.”

Wren sighed quietly with a small frown. He understood Shu and understood his motives but he still didn’t think that it was a good idea. Shu was going to get hurt again and Wren would be helpless to stop it... again.

“Hey,” Shu spoke up softly, grabbing the phone. He slipped it into Wren’s letterman pocket and took his hands in his own. “I still love you so much, you know that right?”

Wren nodded, words getting caught in his throat. “Yeah, I know. I still love you too but-“

“Good,” Shu took a step forward and pecked Wren on the lips, stopping the boy in his tracks. “Never forget that.”

-

Wren rubbed his eyes and yawned. His arm was aching but it was tolerable enough to stick it out until he could eat and take more pain medication. 

“Daiichi?”

Wren groaned loudly, “What is it now?”

“Ms. Wilma has arrived and Mr. Stark has requested your presence,” JARVIS said.

“Damn it, fucking shit,” Wren muttered, glancing at the digital clock that sat on the black mini fridge acting like a bedside table. “How is it noon already? Fuck me,” Wren complained loudly as he opened his door and stepped out. He assumed they were all in the lounge area as it was, ironically, more commonly used than the commons.

He padded down the hall and into the lounge where, as he guessed, Tony and Pepper stood talking to Ms. Wilma and a scruffy young man with dyed blonde hair that was fluffy and semi grown out. He had dark brown roots and a five o’clock shadow to match. He had a handful of tattoos covering his arms, shiny rings on his fingers, and a single looped earring in his right ear.

“Daiichi,” Tony called, noticing Wren standing at the doorway and waving him over. “Wonderful, we can get started. Uh, Daiichi, this is Dr. Eric Edwards,” Tony motioned towards the scruffy man, “He’s a psychologist who specializes in teens and young adults.”

“Just call me Eric. Dr. Edwards was my dad and the dude was a serious pain in the ass,” Eric said with a dopey grin.

“Eric, please,” Ms. Wilma said, exasperated. “Can you act professionally for more than a few seconds?”

“Kathryn, please,” Eric mocked, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “Can you not be a serious pain in my ass for more than a few seconds?”

Wren snorted, covering his mouth with a sweater paw as he stifled a laugh. Eric grinned at him and Ms. Wilma rolled her eyes. “You’re so lucky that you’re good at your job, otherwise I would’ve had you fired two years ago.”

“I just graduated from college two years ago, though-“

“Exactly,” Ms. Wilma said with a facetious nod before focusing back on the task at hand. “Alright, since everyone’s here, let’s get started. We’re going to do this in a series of four steps, okay? Step one is my evaluation, or home study, on whether or not the child is in a safe environment that meets all of his needs. Step two is Eric and Daiichi’s individual meeting where Eric will help determine Daiichi’s mental state and any steps necessary to improve it. Step three is Eric’s briefing with the parents and child, where he’ll explain his opinions without any specific mentioning of what was discussed. Finally, step four is where I’ll give you a run down of the legal procedures that are going be put in motion within the next few months. I don’t know much, nor am I qualified for any legal advice, but I want to tell you what I do know. Is this plan understood and accepted by everyone here?”

As she spoke, Ms. Wilma dug through her large purse and pulled out a clipboard and a small notebook with a red leather cover. She handed the notebook to Eric and pulled out a pair of cheetah print reading glasses, expertly slipping them onto the bridge of her nose and skimming through the multiple pages on her clipboard.

“Yes, that’s fine,” Pepper said with a nod, clasping her hands together with a kind smile. 

Tony nodded along with her and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, sure, whatever you need.”

“Daiichi?” Ms. Wilma looked at Wren questioningly, “Are you okay with all of this?”

“What do you think?” Wren drawled, his tone bored. “This is all out of my control and I’ve made it very clear from day one that I don’t like any of it. You’re wasting my time asking questions that I can’t actually answer.”

Ms. Wilma sighed, “Duly noted. Anyways, let’s start with the house tour, yes? Or compound tour, I suppose. We’ll leave Daiichi’s room last so he and Eric can talk in private,” she said to Tony and Pepper, who nodded along. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Tony said, “Do you need anything, Daiichi? Pain meds, food, coffee?”

“Pain meds?” Ms. Wilma asked.

“He tore his bicep muscle,” Pepper explained, “He’s fine now, of course. We have the best doctors available-“

Wren laughed, “Best doctors? I didn’t need the best doctors. I could’ve told you everything that Banner said!”

“Regardless,” Tony dismissed, “We do have the best doctors and he’s been basically on bed rest for a week.”

“I don’t need anything so you can go now,” Wren grumbled, wanting the conversation to end. He flopped onto one of the couches and closed his eyes. Annoyance was quickly rising in him.

“Okay,” Tony awkwardly nodded and pushed open the door leading out to the corridor. “We’ll be back soon, JARVIS will keep you updated.”

“Thank you, leave now,” Wren deadpanned.

-

“Norman?” Wren rubbed his eyes sleepily, “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” Norman said quietly, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Wren pushed himself up into a sitting position, his bed creaking slightly as he moved. Norman was standing above him, half of his body hidden in shadows caused by dim, blue light. It came from the train nightlight plugged into the wall next to Wren’s raggedy headboard. The blue glow made Norman’s sea green hair glimmer in the dark. 

“What are you doing?” Wren asked again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Norman wasn’t usually this quiet or crestfallen. He was always so confident and leveled. He was cool, smart, and a couple years older than Wren was. The young boy looked up to him greatly. “There’s, uh, something that we have to talk about.”

Wren yawned silently, “What is it? Couldn’t it wait until morning?”

“No, it couldn’t,” Norman said with a sad smile. “Wren... do you- how do you feel about leaving the Snake Pit?”

“Leaving? We can’t- we can’t do that, can we?”

“We can,” Norman said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We can leave right now and never look back. We can go to America and find your mother or we can go and travel the world. Just you and me, kid.”

“But what about Ashtem?” Wren squeaked, eyes wide.

“We can hide from him,” Norman said, putting a tense hand on Wren’s shoulder and gripping it. “I can protect you, I will protect you, but we have to leave now. The security cameras aren’t being managed because of shift changes and Ashtem is in America for the night. So, what do you say? Do you want to leave?”

Wren nodded.

-

“So, looks like it’s just you and me, kid,” Eric said, smiling.

“Don’t say that,” Wren mumbled, swinging his good arm over his eyes.

“Don’t say what? Kid?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Wren said, shifting his arm and glaring at Eric. “Can we just get this over with?”

Eric took a seat in the armchair across from Wren, the leather notebook and a blue pen in one hand. He used the other to mess with his hair, running his fingers through it a couple times and pushing it back behind his ear.

“Of course,” he said, “Let’s start with something simple-“

“Hold on,” Wren interrupted, looking unamused. “Here’s the deal, frat boy. I don’t plan on being very cooperative with your dumb questions about my childhood and inner consciousness so you can fuck right off with that. I’m fine with just sitting here for an hour.”

“Frat boy, huh? That’s a new one,” Eric laughed, “Good try, though. This is my job and I’m not gonna let your stubbornness stop me. So, do you want to do this here or is there a more, uh, private place that you’d prefer?” Eric asked, crossing and uncrossing his legs. He didn’t look nervous but he kept shifting and fidgeting in his seat. He reminded Wren of himself when his own lanky limbs were crammed into an uncomfortable chair.

“I don’t really care, but I guess we can go to my room,” Wren shrugged and swung his long legs off of the couch arm. He stood up and stretched his upper body and arms, causing the sleeves of his sweatshirt to ride up.

“Nine, one, one, one, two,” Eric read, squinting at Wren’s wrist. “What does that mean?”

“None of your business,” Wren said defensively, covering the black numbers with his sleeve again. 

“Must be pretty important if you’re willing to get a tattoo of it illegally,” Eric commented, standing up as well.

“Don’t talk to me about legalities,” Wren snapped, “I’ve had enough of being told by misinformed adults over what I did and didn’t do that was illegal.”

Eric raised his hands up in defense, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. Y’know, you’re a pretty smart kid.”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” Wren muttered, strolling into the hallway with his hands latched behind his head.

“I mean, I kinda am,” Eric admitted, jogging to keep up. “I read your file, the one put together by social services after your mother died, and it said that Daiichi Wren was never enrolled in any schools. He didn’t have a place of residency or any legal guardians so the fact that you’re so well spoken is kinda shocking.”

Wren stopped and whipped around, nearly causing Eric to run into him. Rage bubbled from deep inside his chest, boiling hotly within his blood. Wren suddenly bunched up Eric’s collar and slammed him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. “Social services are stupid as fuck and getting your information from them is idiotic as a therapist. I’ve never been in school but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t spend my entire life learning and studying. I taught myself six languages, I taught myself how to study people, I taught myself how to survive, I taught myself how to succeed. I don’t need school, I don’t need a place to stay, and I sure as hell don’t need guardians,” Wren snarled, centimeters from Eric’s face. “No one else did that for him, just me!”

“Okay,” Eric said softly, cautious and slow. He was looking at Wren like he was insane. “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything like that. I was just surprised, just like how I’m surprised by how strong you are right now, Jesus Christ.”

Wren let go of Eric and took a step back in confusion, breathing harshly. He looked down at his hands. He didn’t know what happened. Wren felt blinded by anger and like his body wasn’t his own. He wasn’t in control. 

“Your eyes,” Eric spoke, furrowing his eyebrows. “They’re changing color-“

Wren locked eyes with Eric. “I- I don’t do that usually,” Wren said, “I mean, I haven’t done it in a long time.”

“Done what, Daiichi?” Eric asked gently.

“That!” Wren gestured to the other, “Lose my cool like that. It hasn’t happened since- since I was fourteen, I think,” Wren spoke breathlessly and was mumbling a bit as he thought it through. He thought that he’d gained pretty good control of himself after they saved Shu from Ashtem’s grasps. “Yeah, fourteen.”

“So, you’ve always had anger issues?” Eric asked, subtly opening his notebook and writing in it. Wren was hardly paying attention, though. He was zoning out while staring at his hands. They were clean. They were clean. They were clean.

They were bloody.

“Huh?” Wren at Eric and back at his hands. The blood was gone. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“When do you think the anger started?”

“How the hell am I supposed know?” Wren cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Look, can we just- can we just go to my room now? I don’t feel comfortable with you questioning me about this shit in the middle of everything.”

Eric sighed through his nose and nodded, shutting his notebook. “Lead the way.”

Wren responded by walking towards his room, subconsciously rubbing the tattoo on his wrist. 

-

“Free? Free?!” Wren sprinted down the halls, people watching him curiously as he frantically looked through every closed room he came across.

He couldn’t believe Free would be so carelessly stupid. He knew that Free was all about pushing his own limits, but Wren would’ve thought he’d be smart enough not to push so hard that he’d hurt himself, in the semi-finals no less. There was no way that Valt Aoi could ever defeat Free De La Hoya in a fair fight. By stepping down from the battle, Free gives away his title as the best to someone who clearly didn’t deserve it.

“Free? Oh, thank God,” Wren let out a sigh of relief when he saw a doe eyed Free sitting on a table with his arm in a sling and Kris fussing over him. 

“Hi, Wren,” Free greeted with a lazy smile.

“Jesus Christ, Free, are you okay?” Wren asked, rushing up to him and looking the boy over.

“He’s fine, Wren,” Kris answered, “He injured his arm but he’ll be fine.”

“Good, that’s good,” Wren said, his head falling forward. “Now, can you please tell me what the hell you were thinking?! Training so hard that you have to drop out of the tournament?! What the fuck, Free?!”

“I guess I pushed myself a little too hard,” Free shrugged, “It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it better fucking not. When Kris had to force you out of the match, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. You gave up the match to fucking Valt? C’mon, seriously?”

“Wren, I thought we already spoke about putting down your fellow team members. Valt is really talented and he deserves to move forward-“

“No, he doesn’t,” Wren argued, “Free is leagues above that kid and you know it.”

“He has more of a chance at saving Red Eye, though,” Free said.

“Shu,” Wren corrected absentmindedly, defiant eyes not leaving Kris’.

“Right, Shu, sorry,” Free didn’t sound apologetic, “Regardless, he and Valt have been best friends for years right? Who better to snap him out of it?” 

“You’re talking like Shu’s already won his match,” Wren said, “He hasn’t. Lui might win and Valt going against him is just going to be a repeat of what’s already happened multiple times before. Besides, Valt can’t snap Shu out of it.”

“Why’s that?” Kris inquired.

“Because I couldn’t shake Shu and I’m the closest to him,” Wren said, crossing his arms.

“You love him,” Free observed, hardly reacting to the realization. “Just like how you love me.”

Wren choked on his spit, “I’m sorry, what? I don’t- what? I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Of course you do,” Free said, tilting his head and smirking slightly.

“Right, okay,” Wren said slowly, “Kris, what drugs did you give him and can I have some?”

Kris giggled, “I haven’t given him anything yet. He didn’t want any pain medication so,”

“There’s no point,” Free shrugged and closed his eyes, his head falling back. “I’m fine without them.”

Kris hummed in thought, “And that’s your choice. I still think things might be a little easier if you weren’t in so much pain-“

“I’m not really in any pain, though,” Free spoke over her, eyes lingering on the muted television mounted in the corner. “Lui and Red Eye’s battle is about to begin. We should get going if we wanna watch.”

“Shu,” Kris quietly corrected, giving Wren a sidelong glance.

“Are we just going to ignore...?” Wren trailed off, motioning between him and Free.

“Ignore what? I thought you said you didn’t love me,” Free said smugly, sliding off the table, his shoes thumping against the floor. 

“I- uh, what?” Wren said eloquently.

Free chuckled lightly and leaned forward to press a small kiss to Wren’s cheek. Wren flushed pink, the blush heating up his neck and curling around his ears.

“Oh my,” Kris gasped, a smile tugging at her lips.

“The match is starting,” Free said, looking at the television again.

“Okay,” Wren said, voice barely above a whisper. He had a little smile on his face as his hand reached up to touch the warm tingle on his cheek.

-

“Woah, this is pretty sweet,” Eric commented, looking around Wren’s room with a slacked jaw.

Wren somewhat followed his gaze, shrugging numbly. He plopped onto his bed, bouncing slightly, and Eric pulled the swivel chair across the carpet, sitting down next to the mini fridge. 

“Did you do all this?” Eric asked, motioning around the room with his pen. 

“Pretty much,” Wren muttered.

He hadn’t done it entirely alone but he organized and dictated what he wanted and where he wanted it. 

With Steve and Rhodey, the three painted the window wall a pale green, accenting the rest of the dark grey walls, and put up large, dark green curtains that only covered the sides of the window. Steve put together the L-shaped desk in the bottom left corner of the room while Rhodey nailed in a cork board and then put wooden slabs above it to act as shelves. They also put together his new bed. The bed frame was the same general light brown wood tone as the desk and shelves and had nine cubbies in it, stacking together like Tetris to fill the headboard. Steve tossed out the rickety bedside table and Rhodey put in the black mini fridge, thinking that it was hilarious. Despite Wren’s protests that he could do it alone, they also covered his mattress with a standard white sheet, fluffy pillows, and a dark blue blanket with a blue dragon perched on a mountain of skulls.

Wren had thanked them for their help and slammed the door behind them, locking it. He had really, truly appreciated the help but it was exhausting to monitor them constantly to make sure they didn’t try to pull anything. The rest of the smaller stuff had been done solely by Wren, mostly after the sun went down and he couldn’t sleep. 

He started with the, arguably, most important part of the room. He put a clear mat on the ground in front of his desk, so he’d have an easier time using his swivel chair, and grabbed all of the discarded bey items from the bedside table and sorted it on the shelves. He put a small lamp on the corner of his desk, posters of Zac and BC Sol on the wall in between the desk and the door, and a black laundry bin under the posters. He also put up three jacket hooks in between his door and the closet, hanging his backpack and lettermen on them, and then put a little trash can underneath it.

Next was his closet. He hung up his shirts and put his pants, underwear, socks, and stolen apparel in the dresser. He painted the six drawers red, yellow, purple, green, blue, and sea green, each one having its own solid color. Wren spent a lot of time on the little details, anything to make him a little less homesick.

Around the mini fridge and under the window sill that went above the headboard by a couple of inches, Wren dug through his bag of pictures and painstakingly put as many photos as he could on the wall. It looked like a giant collage, or maybe an art project. Laminated pictures of happy faces overlapping each other’s sides and corners. Wren was careful not to tear or damage any of them with the adhesive. He strung fairy lights along the window, shelves, and inside the closet to keep everything bright. Wren was too old for a nightlight, but he could use the aesthetic of fairy lights as an excuse to keep his room lit up. 

With all that done, his room was still half empty. He tried to remedy it by putting a standing lamp in the top left corner, making sure it didn’t block the bathroom door adjacent to it, and laid a large, circular rug in the middle of the empty space on the floor. The rug was fuzzy and brown, making it a nice visual point against the beige carpet. 

The left half of the window wall was still plain, and it threw off the room entirely. Wren had liked the idea of putting a television or something there so he didn’t want to completely cover it up, but it was far too obvious compared to the rest of the room and it bothered him immensely. His solution was to put a poster of Xander’s old team, the Sword Flames, near the top of the standing lamp and then put a poster of Lui and Free diagonal to it. That way, the wall was partially filled but left uncovered for future use. He knew his room was far from being completed but it was a good start, definitely an improvement from the barren wasteland it was before.

“Well, it looks really cool,” Eric said, “Wish I had a room like this growing up.”

“Good for you,” Wren said unkindly.

“What’s that?” Eric asked. Wren lifted his head up to look at what Eric was pointing at. ‘Durago’ was painted in large, metallic teal letters overhead the closet. Wren thought that the space looked too empty, so he used stencils and spray paint to fill it up a bit more.

“It’s the name of my bey,” Wren said simply, pointing at the lower right corner of his desk where Durago sat patiently. 

“Oh, you play beyblade?”

“I’m one of the best,” Wren answered, shrugging as if it were an obvious fact.

“Is that so?” Eric asked with a small chuckle, “I bet you’ll be number one someday.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Wren said, sitting up. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly insulted. He wasn’t some baby blader with big dreams. “I’m one of the best in the world and I can back that shit up with video evidence.”

“I see,” Eric mumbled, writing in his notebook. “And have you been blading for a long time? Couple months? Few years?”

Wren scoffed, “Try eleven years. Though, I’ve only been doing it at a tournament level for three years, I think.”

“That’s a long time for someone your age,” Eric mused.

“I guess,” Wren shrugged, leaning back against the headboard, his head dipping into one of the empty cubbies. It didn’t seem that long to him. Most bladers he knew had started out when they were young. Hell, Valt’s kid siblings were both six years old when they got their first beys. Shu was the only one he could think of that didn’t fit the usual, but he was a bit of an anomaly in the sense that he got his bey when he was ten yet he mastered it and nearly won Nationals when he was eleven.

“Have you made a lot of friends?”

“You could say that,” Wren grinned, tapping his cluster of pictures. He had pictures with Shu’s old beyclub, he had pictures with the Supreme Four, he had pictures with BC Sol. He had pictures from all over the world, taken over the course of his entire beyblading career. He even had pictures from his time in the Snake Pit. Those particular ones were worn down and more covered up. “Blading makes you travel so I’ve met a lot of people through that.”

“Right, but do you have a lot of close friends, not just people you’ve battled?” Eric scribbled into his notebook some more. Wren pushed himself up to try and see what it said out of curiosity, but he couldn’t actually read any of it.

“I wouldn’t say lots,” Wren finally answered, giving up on his quest to read Eric’s thoughts. “I’d say that there’s maybe nine people who I’d consider to be a legitimate friend, give or take a few.”

-

“That is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Quon said loudly, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t hear you coming up with any great ideas,” Wren said, narrowing his eyes.

“No offense, Daiichi, but you’re an idiot if you actually think that’s going to work against Xander,” Quon reached up and plucked the paper Wren was holding out of his hands. Wren huffed and watched as Quon skimmed through it.

“Yeah, there’s no way,” Quon mumbled to himself, “Durago’s defense is good but it’s not good enough to withstand Xander’s Sabers. You need a new strategy.”

Wren threw his hands in the air dramatically with a loud sigh, “What am I supposed to do then? Xander is the weakest out of everyone in the Supreme Four-“

“I’d argue that Zac is weaker but okay,” Quon interjected, but Wren ignored him completely.

“-and if I can’t win against him, I don’t stand a chance against them,” Wren said, flopping backwards onto Quon’s bed and staring at the ceiling. Only the top half of his body was actually on the bed, the other half overhung the edge and his feet were uncomfortably kicking against the slippery floor to keep himself up, pushing his head against the wall with every movement. Wren often cursed the small twin beds that they all had in their rooms but he hated Quon’s the most. Maybe it was because he slept in it the most.

“Why are you so persistent about beating Xander? I mean, I get wanting to win against him because he’s strong, but it seems like there’s more to it,” Quon scooted the chair closer to the bed and moved so he was sitting next to Wren. He kicked up his feet on the chair and leaned back against the wall, his arms resting behind his head comfortably.

“Probably because there is more to it,” Wren muttered, purposely keeping it vague.

Quon looked down at Wren for a minute, silent in thought. Eventually, he hooked an arm under Wren’s flailing knees and turned his body so he was properly laying on the bed. Wren eyed him curiously, adjusting his body until he was comfortable. Quon kicked away the chair and kicked off his shoes to go with it. Then, he wiggled in between Wren and the wall, tossing an arm over the other’s middle.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Quon said quietly, his breath tickling Wren’s ear. “But I want you to know that I understand, and I’ll help you beat Xander starting tomorrow morning. I don’t know about the other three but I’ve been going head to head with this guy forever. I know his tricks and I know how to beat him, I’ve done it tons of times before,” 

“Thanks, Quon,” Wren said, just as quiet. He shifted and turned his body so he was facing Quon chest to chest and wrapped his arms around the other. “Y’know, most people just call me Wren.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and you can too, if you want. I don’t mind Daiichi, it’s just an option,” Wren said, burying his face in Quon’s chest. “Anyways,” he yawned, “Goodnight, Quon.”

Quon chuckled, “Goodnight, Wren.”

-

“Are they all bladers?”

“I haven’t even talked to someone who wasn’t a blader in years. Well, I guess Kris and Trad don’t blade but they’re involved so I don’t think that counts,” Wren said thoughtfully. He knew that Kris used to blade, Free told him all about their little matches in the forest, but he wasn’t really sure about Trad or anyone else who wasn’t outright a blader.

“What about your mother? Was she one?”

That made Wren lock up. He didn’t mind talking about beyblade because it was all common knowledge at this point. Beyblade helped calm him down and kept him focused. It gave him a purpose and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. His mother, though? She didn’t deserve his words. She didn’t deserve his thoughts or speculations. He didn’t know a damn thing about her and, frankly, he didn’t care to. She could’ve been the best blader in the world and Wren wouldn’t give a shit.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Wren muttered, closing his eyes. 

“I see,” Eric hummed, the faint sound of pen scratching on paper filled the room. Suddenly, a ding went off and the scratching stopped. “Y’know what? I think that’s enough for today. I have a general idea of what’s going on and I think I’m ready to talk to your parents-“

“They’re not my parents,” Wren growled.

“I think I’m ready to talk to Tony and Pepper,” Eric corrected smoothly, “Kathryn says that she’s on her way here anyways. She can look at your room and I can talk to your p- uh, Pepper and Tony.”

“Nice save,” Wren muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pulling off his sweatshirt. It wasn’t super hot but it was enough to be noticeable and Wren didn’t feel like freezing his ass off if he asked JARVIS to turn on the air conditioner.

“Oh,” Eric scanned over Wren’s upper body, “You have multiple tattoos.”

“Excellent observation,” Wren said sarcastically, brushing his fingers over the bandages on his bicep. They mostly covered the dragon skull tattoo but you could still see a bit of the top and bottom.

“What do they mean?” Eric asked curiously, looking over them.

“None of your business,” Wren said shortly. 

“Did you design them?”

Wren paused his motions, “I drew the rose on my back but that’s it,”

The knock and opening of his bedroom door caught his attention. Ms. Wilma stepped in, clipboard in hand and Tony and Pepper right behind her. Tony looked bored and exhausted but Pepper was smiling brightly.

“Are you two done?” Ms. Wilma asked Eric.

“Yes, I believe we are,” Eric said with a toothy smile. 

“Alright, in that case, why don’t you give Tony and Pepper the rundown while I poke around here and finish my little survey?”

“Can do,” Eric said, motioning Tony and Pepper to sit down next to Wren on the bed. They obliged, but Wren stood up and leaned against the empty wall next to the window. Wren noticed Eric’s gaze but neither said anything about it.

“First of all, I’d like to keep seeing Daiichi, if that’s alright. I think that he’s a great kid and I’ve barely scratched the surface,” Eric started, facing Tony and Pepper.

“Of course,” Pepper said, “Tony and I would love for you to keep seeing him.”

“That being said,” Eric continued, nodding towards Pepper. “I’ve barely scratched the surface and yet I’ve already seen a variety of issues with him.”

“Excuse me?” Wren spoke up, taking a step forward. 

Eric put up a passive hand, “Concerns, not issues. There have been a variety of things that I find concerning.”

Wren huffed but leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. There was nothing that was concerning about him. Wren was probably the most functional out of everyone in the room.

“My biggest concern is Daiichi’s development. There’s no doubt that he’s very intelligent, but he’s never been to school. He’s never had the chance to interact with regular kids. His entire world revolves around playing a game and I don’t find that very healthy. I believe that he needs a standard education and the chance to learn how to socialize properly among normal peers instead of the ones that he’s met through beyblade,” Eric said, a complete change to the unprofessionalism that Wren was used to. As he spoke, his dark green eyes never left the pages of his notebook.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Wren said, his arms falling to the side in disbelief. “Are you actually implying that bladers aren’t normal? And are you actually saying that blading is unhealthy for me?”

“Yes, Daiichi, I am,” Eric affirmed, “I do actually believe that you’re unhealthily obsessed with beyblade to the point where it controls your life completely. I may not know very much about it but, if I were to guess, I’d guess that your arm was injured because of it, yeah?”

Wren’s blood was boiling. Who the hell was this guy to tell him what is and isn’t good for him? He clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring murderously. “Actually, fuckface, my right arm and shoulder is more prone to injury because I basically shattered everything in there when I was seven. It didn’t end up healing correctly so the slightest thing can set it off and cause bruising or tears. Even if I wasn’t a blader, that fact would still be true.”

“I don’t think it matters,” Eric shrugged, “The point is that it’s not good for you and a change needs to happen.”

“Uh, What kind of change?” Tony spoke up, cutting off the angry huff that came from Wren.

“Daiichi needs to be enrolled in an actual school, first off. Online classes are an option if he’s too far behind but I’d prefer for him to be in physical classes where he can interact with people. As I said earlier, more time with a therapist, like me, would be helpful. I’d like to get to the roots of his anger issues and see if there’s anything else that needs attending to. Lastly, I believe that Daiichi needs to cut back on beyblading-“

“You fucking what?! No fucking way, what the hell?!” Wren shouted, outraged. Being forced to attend school was annoying but expected. Giving children an education was a really big social issue and, while Wren couldn’t give less of a shit about it, he quickly realized that adults didn’t care about his opinions towards anything regarding his life or the world. Until he turned eighteen, nothing he said or thought mattered. Cutting him off from beyblade, though, was crossing a fucking line.

“Daiichi, you have to understand-“ Eric tried, standing up and looking into Wren’s eyes. They were burning with fury.

“Understand what? That you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about? That you’re actually insane if you think I’m giving up beyblade? That this entire thing is complete bullshit?” Wren spat, arms slightly twitching as he ranted. “Here’s what I don’t understand, dickwad, I don’t understand why you think it’s okay for you all to come in and destroy my life. I don’t understand why any of this shit is fucking necessary in the slightest. I don’t understand why I can’t be left alone!”

Wren was distantly aware of all the eyes on him but he couldn’t care less. He was shaking, he was so angry. He could see Durago faintly glowing teal on his desk, watching the whole ordeal with a fierce protectiveness. Wren could feel his self control dripping down his body like blood.

“This is my room,” Wren scowled, “Everyone get the fuck out before I-“ he stopped. What was he going to do? He was going to say that he’d rip out one of his shelves and bash their heads in but, was that true? Would he do that? He’s done it before, hasn’t he? The calm and level headed Wren was being corroded with hatred and rage. He needed to regain himself before he actually did hurt someone. He needed to breathe. He needed to focus.

He needed to be alone.

“Just get out!” Wren shouted, hands shooting up and gripping the hair on his head as he fell forward to his knees. Tears fell down his cheeks and he gasped for breath. He felt like he was being split open with poisonous wrath.

Wren let out a small sigh of relief when he looked up and saw them filing out with worried stares. Eric was the last one out, looking like a pitiful puppy dog as he shut the door behind him. They’d actually listened to him for once and respected his wishes. 

He was alone.

It left the room silent and still. Sunlight came in from the window, making a giant rectangle of light in the middle of the room. It narrowly missed Wren, who sat rocking back and forth in front of the curtain. Loud thoughts echoed in his head, crashing between his skull and brain. He couldn’t think straight.

Blood covered his hands. He felt it drip down the sides of his head, tingles following each drop as they slid down his cheeks and jawline. Wren didn’t know where the blood came from. He’d hadn’t bled in a long time. Was it not his blood? It couldn’t be. Did he do that? It couldn’t have been anyone else. Was he the monster hurting people? Yes.

It was dark, it was so dark. Water was filling his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Maybe it wasn’t water, maybe it was more blood. He could hear a clock ticking but he couldn’t see a clock. He couldn’t see anything. Why was it so dark? He was in the room. Where was the sunlight? He didn’t deserve any. What was happening? He didn’t know.

He gripped the sides of his head, yanking the strands hard. He couldn’t feel anything. No pain, no anger, no sorrow. He was numb, his body was numb. It wasn’t listening to him. He needed to stand up. He needed to wake up. He needed to speak up. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move? He was trapped. Where was his voice? Drowning in blood. Why won’t it stop? It never will. 

Where was Ashtem? 

-

The silence stretched longer than was necessary. Ashtem had always adored spectacle. He loved being the center of attention, being completely in control of everyone’s attention, and showing his power. But he didn’t mind hiding behind a mask. He didn’t mind working from the shadows or pretending not to know something that he did.

He was a strange man.

“The plan is in motion,” Ashtem said to him, gazing through the grand window in front of them. Construction was being done below, creating a temple straight from Ashtem’s designs. 

“What does that mean for me?” he asked, peering over the edge. 

“For you?” Ashtem repeated, “Well, you’re the last one standing, my boy. This marks the end of Project Snake Eyes and the beginning of the Snake Pit.”

“But what does that mean?” he asked, more forceful and whiny.

Ashtem sighed, “It means that you’ll officially be the first Snake Pit blader and phase two can be put in motion.”

“Project Requiem, right?”

“Correct,” Ashtem smiled from beneath his helmet, “And everything that you’ve ever known will be different. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes sir,” he answered quietly, watching the workers move boxes and carve through the Earth. 

“Excellent,” Ashtem said, “I’m counting on you, Blue Eyes.”

-

Suddenly, Wren was snapped out of his thoughts by a couple loud thuds in front of him.

Durago had fallen off the desk and rolled onto the ground in front of him. Next to it was Wren’s flip phone, closed and resting in the brown fluff of the rug. Wren stared at Durago, a moment of clarity rushing over him like a breath of fresh air. Durago reflected the light coming in from the window. There was light. His hands were clean. He could move. It stopped.

Wren sniffled and wiped away his tears. He dragged himself forward, inch by inch. He could feel the black sludge of his insanity grip his mind and try to pull him back. He wouldn’t let it win.

Wren fell forward on his stomach, groaning slightly. He reached out as far as he could and grabbed Durago and his flip phone with one hand. He rolled over onto his back and opened the flip phone. He struggled to type out a small message with Durago in his hand, but he couldn’t put it down. He kept the phone in his hand once he was done, the typed message left unsent. In his other hand, he held up Durago and stared into its eyes. 

He smiled weakly.

He wasn’t alone.

He hit send.

To Carmesí

bongo

Thurs, Oct 13, 1:52 pm


	4. my temperature is rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy thanksgiving, I hate this chapter so much. I’m sorry it took so long but it wasn’t working with me and I’m not entirely happy with the results. I gave up on proofreading halfway through so I apologize if there’s any typos or mess ups.   
It’s more filler and some soft stuff with Tony and Wren  
TW for suicidal thoughts and actions  
Basically Wren disassociates for a while and almost kills himself

He didn’t move for a long time, lost in the abyss of his own deadened mind. For once, his thoughts were mostly silent. Words too exhausting, noises too loud, and memories devoid of any warmth or comfort that they once provided him. Every small thought that he could manage was garbled and would ricochet around in his brain until he could get another an hour later. Despite his fatigue, he couldn’t sleep. His eyes refused to close and instead blinked slowly.

He laid on the ground with his bey in hand and an abandoned flip phone on the floor. He stared at the ceiling blankly, the light fading from the room as the sun fell. As the hours passed and Wren was left alone with his meager thoughts, knocks on the door would come and go and robotic words would be spoken quietly. He’d feel footsteps thump and hear muffled conversations outside his door. 

They would all be ignored.

He couldn’t move his limbs, they were far too heavy and Wren was far too weak. He felt like a spirit, spectating his own body as time sped by. His head pounded but he could barely feel it. He was floating in endless water going in all directions. Below him was black with darkness, above him was an ombré of blues. He could vaguely see the sun, disfigured and shiningly brightly. 

Except, it wasn’t the sun. It wasn’t warm enough to be the sun. He was surrounded by a coldness that he couldn’t identify. He couldn’t tell if he was cold because he was numb, or if he was numb because he was cold. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t cold enough. He slightly shivered in his wife beater and sweatpants. He could see a bit of pink on his bed, Shu’s sweatshirt left behind. The sun had officially set, the last of its light being snuffed out and replaced by the city lights. It didn’t matter, he could barely see anyways. There was an eternal fog around him, dancing around his frigid form. It spoke mocking whispers that Wren couldn’t hear. 

White mist clouded his senses. Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch. His fingers rubbed against the carpet but he couldn’t feel it. He flexed his muscles in his right arm but he couldn’t feel the pain of the strain either. He inhaled but he couldn’t feel his lungs expanding. He couldn’t feel the air. He couldn’t breathe the air. He was sweating. Why was he sweating? It wasn’t cold enough. 

Wren was standing, Durago in hand. He was moving but he couldn’t feel himself move, he couldn’t control himself. He was a spectator in his own life. He slipped on a pair of shoes, leaving them untied, and wandered out of his room. He was vaguely aware that JARVIS was talking to him but he couldn’t hear him over the water in his ears. He couldn’t open his mouth to speak. Durago was humming, trying to provide comfort for its blader. 

Somehow, Wren had found Tony’s garage and had slipped into one of his cars. He didn’t have a plan, or any idea as to what he was going to do once he left the compound. He knew that he had to leave and his body was forcing him to comply. The keys were on the dashboard, available for anyone to use. Tony was too confident. He didn’t even realize how much of a threat he posed to himself. 

Wren started the car and slammed on the gas, speeding out of the garage and, in minutes, out of the compound completely. The windows were rolled down and wind whipped against Wren’s face, messily ruffling his hair. The car was vrooming loudly as it went down the road. It was almost deafening. He felt the grooves of the leather steering wheel against his tight grip. He drove for a long time, eyes on the skies in case Iron Man decided to show up. He knew that Tony would eventually but he was grateful for the time that he had.

He parked the car on the side of the road, some street he didn’t know in a city he didn’t know. He wasn’t paying attention to signs. He got out and shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. The freezing temperature was a lot worse outside, but it still wasn’t cold enough. He crossed streets and passed by chattering people, all while keeping his head down. Being outside of his stuffy room seemed to wake his brain up a bit. Quiet thoughts circled around in his mind, more coherent and easier to process. He still wasn’t in full control.

He ended up climbing a creaky fire escape on the side of a relatively high up apartment building, Durago still in hand. He climbed past shut windows, covered by curtains. He climbed past open windows, the sounds of the television being lost among the noise of traffic down below. He saw people sleeping alone, people sleeping with kids, people sleeping together. He saw people working away at their laptops, textbooks and papers scattered around them. He saw people resting on their couches, bowls of snacks and mugs of steaming drinks in their laps. He climbed and climbed until he reached the roof, high above the city.

Wren sat down on the ledge, swinging his legs and breathing in the crisp air. The wind cupped his cheeks, cooing softly at him. He didn’t need its pity. He let his eyes flutter close as the gale rocked him back and forth, rippling his clothing and ruffling his fluffy hair. Goosebumps lined his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight. He took a deep breath, the freezing air lining his lungs. Wren could feel the bite of the cold winds down to his bones and every breath fogged in front of him. 

It was finally cold enough. 

He opened his eyes and stared up at the stars. They dwindled in the New York lights, barely visible. They reminded him of himself, slowly fading away into naught under the scrutinizing gaze of burning lights that have nothing to do with him. He could see a few autumn constellations in the sky. He was never good at spotting them but Free was always pointing upwards and telling their intricate stories. Wren didn’t know how Free knew all of them and he never asked, content to just lay in the soft grass and listen. 

He was always content to just spend time with his family. He missed them all much more than he thought he would. Their smiling faces were ingrained into his head, the memory of their laughter seeping through his dim thoughts. Silas’ annoyed scowl followed by a smirk of success as Kinetic Satomb burst through its opponent. Xander’s loud, infectious laughter booming across a crowded arena, his hands on his hips and his head thrown back joyously. Yugo confidently smiling with his eyes closed and arms crossed, while Ukyo’s eyes shimmered with mischief and his smile was laced with mystery. The carefree, laidback smile that Quon always had as he cruised down a street on his skateboard or the sharp, cocky smile that he had during battle. Lui’s laughter was almost always cold and mocking and his smiles were all pointy teeth and condescending, but there were times when he was softer, more genuine and those were the times that Wren cherished the most. Free had lazy smiles and soft laughs, filled with adoration and peaked interest. Shu had many different smiles, from the relieved and happy one after a winning battle to a friendly and amused one around his friends. 

It didn’t matter who it was or what smile they adorned, Wren would notice it and warmth would fill his chest. He loved listening to the blithe laughter of his family as they chatted away about inconsequential topics. He loved being around them and feeling like he meant something. But he wasn’t around them and, from where he currently stood, Wren didn’t feel like he was apart of any family. He didn’t feel like he had anything or anyone.

Maybe he never was apart of any family. He was always the odd one out. In his time with the Sword Flames, Wren was unfriendly and skittish like a feral cat. Yugo never wanted him there, Quon left months later, and Ukyo eyed him wearily as if he could sense Wren’s horrid past. Then, he befriended the Supreme Four and Xander was the only one who took him seriously, the others seeing him as a kid following around his idols. When he finally leveled with them, Zac was too dramatic and weird, Lui never respected him, and Shu was too compassionate. He was so compassionate that he befriended Wren and took him under his wing. Wren even integrated into his friend group a bit but he was never really apart of it. He was just there, existing. He was too cold, too harsh, too dogmatic, too serpentine.

BC Sol seemed different. Wren contributed to the team and he mattered. There were people who liked him and he finally fit in somewhere. But then Kris suspended him and he realized that he was never really needed. He realized that every vacation that he took hadn’t mattered to them. He realized that he was always going to be second best, the last choice, the one who didn’t matter. He was the weakest out of the Last Seasons. They had all made it to the semifinals of that tournament, but Wren was the first one to lose. He lost in a heated battle against Shu- a heated battle that he had no chance in. Wren could barely snag any wins against Lui on a good day and he could never stand against Free. He dragged them down. He was the weak link. He was odd one out.

Wren’s grip on Durago tightened, its edges cutting painfully into his hand. He was apart of a team. He and Durago were a team, their spirits linked through an unbreakable bond. When he had nobody, Durago was always there for him. People weren’t reliable. People couldn’t be trusted. People didn’t care. Durago was. Durago did. Durago always did and they wanted to take it away from him. The only true friend that he had, they wanted to take away. Wren couldn’t live without his bey. If they were talking it away, he would be lost forever. 

Wren’s gaze lingered on Durago for a few more seconds before it shifted to the ground down below. It seemed like it was miles away, the people and buildings around it blurring together as his eyes focused on the pavement. He leaned forward, dangerously balancing on the ledge with his hands gripping the edge behind him, keeping him from falling. He started observing the people. Some were hunched over, hands stuffed in pockets as they sped walk across the street. Some were wearing bizarre outfits that you’d only see in New York and others had dark circles beneath their eyes as they trudged through polluted gutters and damp trash. How would they react if they saw him on the roof? If they saw him jump? 

Wren’s fingers twitched, gently scraping against the concrete. He wondered what would happen if he did jump. He wondered who would care. He wondered if anyone would even notice. Shu never answered his texts, Lui never wrote back, Free never fought for him to stay. His family was split across the planet and none of them had reached out to him in a year. His family was no longer his family. It was just Wren and Durago ‘til the end of times.

Wren let go. 

He closed his eyes as the wind brushed against his skin. He felt strangely calm. Time moved in slow motion and, for few slow seconds, he had some peace. He had no past, no present, no future. He was a blank slate. For those few slow seconds, Daiichi Wren was not lost.

Suddenly, a strong arm was wrapped around his waist, jerking his body to a stop and nearly causing him to drop Durago. The unexpected contact burned him, sending tingles throughout his touch starved body. Wren’s eyes shot open and he whipped his head around. Holding him close was a guy clad in a dark blue and red bodysuit. He wore a matching mask that covered his entire head, making him impossible to identify.

“Okay- it’s okay, I got you,” the guy said, his voice sounding much younger than Wren expected. He sounded like a kid. “That was a little too close for comfort, pal,” 

“Who the hell are you?” Wren scowled, “Let me go, asshole!”

The guy breathily chuckled, sounding forced and slightly panicked as he pulled himself, and Wren, up. It brought Wren’s attention to the foggy white web-like substance that they were hanging from. There were a lot of bafflingly peculiar things to be seen in New York, but a teenager in a skintight costume hanging from some kind of web in the middle of the night definitely topped Wren’s nonexistent list. 

“Uh, well,” the guy started, “I’m- uh, I’m Spiderman,” 

Wren stared at him blankly, “Spiderman,”

“Yes, uh, yeah, I’m Spiderman,” the boy repeated, “I protect the streets of New York-“

“I don’t care,” Wren had to have been hallucinating. “Let go of me.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Spiderman grunted, “No can do. I don’t make a habit of letting people die.”

Spiderman hauled Wren up and back over the ledge like it was effortless. Gravel pushed into the lower palms of his hands as he shakily stood up. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” Wren growled as Spiderman vaulted himself onto the roof, landing on his feet. “But you need to stay the hell out of people’s business.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot,” Spiderman nodded, clapping his hands. “See, the thing is though, it becomes my business when someone’s life is at stake.”

“Who cares?” Wren snarled, “I’m not hurting anybody else. My life is at stake, sure, but I’m purposefully doing that. You have no right to get in my way.”

Spiderman took a few silent steps forward, the white visors that covered his eyes were narrowed expressively. “Not hurting anybody else? You hurt everyone in your life when you- when you... y’know. What about your parents?”

Wren scoffed, noticeably swaying on his feet. This kid was sheltered and young. Based on speech patterns and the build of his body, Wren put him in the fourteen to sixteen age range. Too young to be an adult yet too old to be a child, just like Wren. “I don’t have parents, not really anyway. They wouldn’t give a shit if I died today or tomorrow.”

“Oh... I’m, uh, sorry about that,” Spiderman said awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. “But surely you’ve got other family? Friends? Maybe a pet or hobby that you just can’t give up?”

Wren lifted up Durago and looked into its sorrowful eyes. “You ever heard of beyblade, kid?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Spiderman said, “I know a few people who wanted to be bladers. Why?”

“Beyblade is the hobby that I can’t give up. It’s my life,” Wren said, not looking up. “There’s nothing more that I want to do. I just want to stay with my partner and win awesome battles. But my so-called parents want me to stop blading. They say that it’s unhealthy and I need to be normal. But giving up beyblade would be like giving up who I am.”

“I get it,” Spiderman said, “There was a time when I couldn’t be Spiderman because my dad thought that it was a bad idea- well, he’s not my dad, he’s my mentor but it’s the same difference. He probably disagrees on that... uh, anyways, I thought I was going to die if I didn’t help people. In the end, we talked it out, sorta, and I was able to go back to helping the innocent as your friendly neighborhood Spiderman,” he rambled, glancing at Wren every few seconds. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I don’t think you’re a bad guy. I mean, you’re not, like, a terrorist or anything, right? You won’t tell people that Spiderman has superhero angst? You won’t destroy New York if I leave you alone?”

Wren sent him a half smile, “Nah, I won’t. Pearl Harbor was a long time ago, there’s no hard feelings.”

“But wait, Pearl Harbor was in Hawaii and the Japanese bombed us-“

“I know, that’s the joke,” 

“Oh,” Spiderman forced out an awkward laugh, “I knew that.”

The two silently stared at each other for a few tense moments. Spiderman was fidgeting and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, getting more anxious as the seconds passed. Wren, on the other hand, was calmly watching the other. He could feel his chest expand and lower with every breath. The wind was getting stronger and colder as the night continued on, Wren’s nose and ears were beginning to turn red, the yellowish cast to his skin had never helped hide the traitorous pink hues. He looked up at the moon and watched it carefully. Positioning told him that it was about three o’clock in the morning, but that was just a mild guess. 

“Anyways, if I could just-“

“-so, uh, what’s your name?”

They suddenly spoke over one another, words coming out a garbled mess. Wren raised his free hand, making them both pause for a beat. “Okay, you go first.”

Spiderman cleared his throat, “I just, uh- I just wanted to know your name. Maybe ask if you needed a ride back home or if you lived around here.”

“Daiichi. My name is Daiichi, but most just call me Wren,” Wren said, shocking himself at how immediate his response was. He didn’t know why he was trusting with this kid, or why he was willing to spill his guts to him. 

Actually, that was a lie. Wren knew exactly why. He’d been surrounded by idiotic adults who didn’t give a damn about him and, for a moment, he wanted some normalcy. He’d been Daiichi for so long and, for a moment, he just wanted to be Wren again. 

“And speaking of rides, I’ve got a car parked... somewhere. I’d have to find it, but I’ll manage. Though, I think I’m gonna stick around here for a little bit longer,” Wren brushed his thumb over Durago’s dragon head as it reflected the moonlight, He wasn’t ready to go back. In all honesty, he just wanted to sleep on the roof, under the stars with Durago by his side. He didn’t want to deal with Tony or Pepper or any of his other issues.

“Okay, well, I can’t leave you alone until I know that you’ll be fine,” Spiderman said hesitantly. 

Wren smiled at him. He wasn’t fine, but he was a lot better than he was before. He could feel. He could breathe. He could see. He wasn’t hallucinating or dreaming, he was grounded in reality. Seconds felt like seconds, minutes felt like minutes, and hours felt like hours.

“So, Spidey, where am I exactly? Like, what city am I in?”

“You- you don’t know what city you’re in?” Spiderman asked slowly.

“If I knew where I was, I wouldn’t have asked,” Wren deadpanned, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he shivered. 

“Right, right,” Spiderman jerkily nodded, “You’re on fifteenth street in, uh- oh shit,” Spiderman suddenly said, eyes frantically searching the sky. 

Wren looked at him with a questioning gaze. Then he heard it. A familiar sound that Wren hadn’t heard since Shu’s research on the Avengers. It was the thrusters of the Iron Man suit. There was a small sense of dread that filled him. 

He really didn’t want to deal with Tony.

“Well, would you look at what we have here? Bill and Ted decided to go on an excellent adventure in Queens,” Tony said, his voice tight and angry as he landed on the roof. Wren could practically see the stress lines, angled eyebrows, and flared nostrils through the faceplate.

“Oh, uh, h-hey, Mr. Stark-“ Spiderman greeted, waving at him while shrinking in on himself. “What are, uh- what are you doing here?”

Tony ignored him and faced Wren, trying to intimidate him. It didn’t work. Tony Stark didn’t scare him. “Can you imagine my surprise when JARVIS woke me up saying that my son had stolen one of my cars and used it to drive out of the compound? Can you imagine my surprise when I show up to find that car abandoned and left in the street with the worst fucking parking job I’ve ever seen? Can you imagine my surprise when I find out that Spiderman is out at almost four in the morning, on a school night no less, and that he’d hacked my million dollar suit again? Can you imagine my surprise when I find out that my wayward son and baby mentee are together and no one thought to contact me?”

With every question, Tony took a thumping step forward, suit mechanical and whirring as he moved. Wren looked at him with a blank expression. “Your wayward son has no way to contact you and Spiderman didn’t know who I was, you fucking moron,” Wren spit, visibly shivering.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, kid?!” Tony snapped, his faceplate coming up. He looked furious and tired. “I’m not in the mood for your shit, Daiichi. And you,” he turned to Spiderman, “You hacked my suit so you could break curfew, is that right? What the hell were you thinking?”

“He tried to jump, Mr. Stark!” Spiderman deflected, motioning towards Wren.

“I didn’t jump,” Wren lied flippantly, sending a pointed look in Spider-Man’s direction.

“Yes, he did!” Spiderman insisted, “He jumped and I caught him. You can get the footage from Karen!”

“Fucking snitch,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose with a metal hand. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen; Spidey, you’re going to bed before your aunt finds out about this and kills me. Daiichi, you and I are going to go back home and we’re going to have a long talk about why you thought this-“ he dramatically motioned towards everything, “-is even remotely okay.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Stark, sir,” Spiderman mumbled, hanging his head in shame.

“Now!” Tony said loudly when Spiderman didn’t move. It made the other boy jump in surprise before he rushed to the edge of the building. 

“Bye, Wren,” Spiderman said, waving goodbye and then jumping. He disappeared from sight, a loud thud sounding out as he landed on the fire escape. 

“Alright, your turn,” Tony turned to Wren, his faceplate snapping down. “JARVIS, check his vitals,” Tony was quiet as he listened to JARVIS, who was mute to Wren’s ear. There wasn’t anything that JARVIS could report besides hypothermia, but even that was a stretch. Wren was mostly fine. “Alright, that’s not too bad. We can warm him up when we get back. If she’s still awake, tell Pepper to set up my lab for us, and while you’re at it, tell Happy to come and get my car. I don’t feel like driving and I’m sure as hell not letting this dipshit drive.”

Wren huffed and rolled his eyes. Surely his parking wasn’t bad enough to warrant an inherent distrust in his overall driving skills? Maybe he’d broke more laws, Wren mused bitterly. 

“Let’s go, young Padawan,” Tony said, voice cold as he motioned for Wren to come.

Wren inwardly sighed and stepped forward towards Tony, who crouched down a bit so the boy could hop on his back. Wren looped his arms around Tony’s neck and jumped on. Tony grabbed his thighs to keep him steady and stood up straight, fully powered thrusters lifting them into the sky and launching them back towards the compound. 

Wren squinted as they flew, wind whipping his face uncomfortably. He looked down below, his vision doubling as he took in how high they were. Yeah, he wasn’t a fan. Wren closed his eyes and laid his head on Tony’s shoulder, tightening his grip on the man. He didn’t like the idea of being twenty thousand feet above ground in general, but it was even worse when the only thing keeping you in the air was a metal man that you had to cling to the back of. Anxiety flared in his chest, making his heart race. He tried to take a deep breath but the air was thin and his lungs refused to take it. He coughed into Tony’s neck, painful in his throat and chest.

Tony rubbed soothing circles into Wren’s thighs and dived so they were closer to the ground. The motion made Wren’s stomach fall through his body, but he could breath easier and his heart calmed a bit. The overall ride was smooth with little turbulence. They were drifting through the skies, the world underneath them zipping by while the stars above them hardly moved. There was a refreshing sense of tranquility surrounding them.

-

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Nariko whispered, kissing the little boy’s forehead. She wrapped a soft, baby blue blanket around her five year old son and sat him in a large box. She pushed his long locks behind his ears and sent him a watery smile, trying to be reassuring. 

He looked up at her with his big blue eyes, full of questions that she couldn’t answer. “Mommy? I’m scared...”

“Oh, no,” Nariko sniffled, “Don’t be scared, baby. There’s nothing to fear.”

“Then why are you sad?” he asked, a confused frown on his little face. 

“Mommy just loves you so very much,” Nariko said, ticking his stomach and relishing the giggles that he let out. “And Mommy has to go away for a little bit.”

“Where are you going?”

Nariko almost sobbed at the heartbroken look on her son’s face. She had to leave soon, before she changed her mind and took him back in her arms. “It’s just a little trip, baby,” she assured, though it sounded fake to her own ears. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

“Promise?” the little boy asked, lifting up his pinky finger. 

“Promise,” Nariko wrapped her own pinky around his. “In the meantime, I have a little gift for you,”

Nariko reached into her purse and dug around a little bit until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a blue colored bey and handed it to her son. “This is Discord Durago. It’ll protect you when Mommy can’t and it’ll make sure that you never forget about me.”

“Discord Durago,” he repeated, testing the name out as he looked at the bey in awe. “Woah,”

“Woah, indeed,” Nariko giggled, “It was Mommy’s when she was little,”

He gasped, “Really?”

“Uh huh!” Nariko confirmed, a big smile on her face. “Durago will be your best friend no matter what and it’ll never leave you alone.”

Nariko watched sadly as Wren looked over Durago with wide, curious eyes. She didn’t want to leave her son, she didn’t even want to entertain the idea of leaving her son, but she had no choice. This was for the best. 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a note, tearfully written on notebook paper, explaining that she couldn’t take care of him. She put it in the box and kissed her son’s forehead, lovingly running her fingers through his hair. 

“I love you, my sweet boy,” Nariko whispered softly.

-

Wren blearily blinked his eyes open, not quite sure when he had fallen asleep. He groggily looked around to see that he was in a workshop of sorts, laying on a comfortable brown couch and covered with a heavy blanket that engulfed him in warmth. 

Quiet music played in the background, a soft humming following it. Tony was hunched over some trinket while a robot sat next to him, chirping as it held a flashlight with its claw. Every once in a while, Tony would chide the robot with witty remarks and the robot would whir sadly in response.

Wren looked at the clock hanging on the wall, struggling to read it. His brain was still half asleep and couldn’t focus. He guessed that it was a quarter to two, probably in the afternoon, which meant that he was asleep for almost ten hours. That made sense given his current dazed state. Wren groaned as he sat up, his muscles stiff and sore. He honestly felt better than he had in days. It was the first time in the past couple days that he was thinking clearly.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” Tony said, looking over his shoulder at Wren. “Do you wanna have that talk now?”

Wren frowned but stood up and shakily sat down in a swivel chair next to Tony. There was two mugs of coffee, one being the Pikachu mug that Wren had become so accustomed to, and a handful of different snacks in front of him, making his stomach rumble. Tony glanced at him with tired eyes, “Eat whatever you want, kid. You haven’t had anything in over a day and I’m pretty sure that’s not a good sign when it comes to teenage boys.”

Wren grabbed a bag of teriyaki beef jerky and opened it with a grunt. The smell of it made his mouth water and it took all of his self control to not shove handfuls down his throat. He grabbed a large piece and began to nibble on the tough meat, savoring the flavor. Tony pushed the Pikachu mug towards him and resumed working on his tech. 

“So, you wanted to jump,” Tony stated, starting the conversation bluntly. There was no reason to beat around the bush or sugarcoat anything. Tony had been walking on eggshells around Wren since he’d gotten there and Wren figured that playing the stern father was only thing he could do anymore.

“I did jump,” Wren offhandedly corrected, sounding muffled as he chewed his jerky. “If you wanted to look into technicalities, you could say that I fell forward instead of, y’know, actually jumping.”

Tony put down his tools and turned to make eye contact with Wren, “How about you stop being a smartass for five minutes, at least. Your attitude and teen angst are seriously pissing me off.”

Wren scoffed, “I’m pissing you off? I’m so sorry! Would you like an apology, Mr. Stark? What would you like me to apologize for, Mr. Stark? The fact that you took me away from my home, Mr. Stark? Or what about the fact that you want to take the only thing that I have left? Which is it, Mr. Stark?” Wren questioned venomously with mocking kindness. He shoved another piece of jerky into his mouth and downed a quarter of his lukewarm coffee, each movement harsh with fury.

“Look, Daii,” Tony sighed, “I get where you’re coming from- really, I do! But I don’t think you understand what’s going on and that’s a problem-“

“I understand everything just fine!” Wren protested, leaning forward abruptly. 

“No, you don’t,” Tony said, taking a deep breath. Wren was obviously getting on his nerves. Tony Stark wasn’t exactly known for his patience and he hadn’t had sixteen years to deal with Wren’s stubbornness. “No, you don’t. You know how I know you don’t? Because you keep jumping to these biased conclusions- all totally untrue, by the way! You see all of these untrue, biased conclusions as if they hold any water in reality when they don’t. You see them as this unquestionable truth, but you don’t actually have any idea what’s going on and it’s scaring you. So, you lash out. You’re afraid, Daiichi, because you don’t understand.”

“I’m not a child,” Wren rebuked, “I don’t need to be explained things step by step. Despite what you may believe, I do know what’s going on. It’s actually you all who don’t know shit.”

Tony leaned back in his chair and reached for his coffee. He took a sip of it and kept it in his grasp. He took another sip, looking deep in thought as he pondered his own response. Wren crumpled up the plastic jerky bag in his hands as he finished off the last piece and tossed it in the small trash can next to him.

“Here’s the thing though,” Tony finally said, “You are a child, Daiichi. You’re a sixteen year old child who hasn’t had any structure in your life. Take it from me, kid, a teenager without structure is doomed as an adult. I spent most of my teenage years doing drugs, partying, and sleeping around- in that order. It’s not like my parents were around either. They were too busy managing the business and the Stark name to even think about their son. I flew through school as a boy genius and then my parents actually died when I was twenty-one. Structure wasn’t ever a thing for me and I’ve felt the affects, as I’m sure you have as well.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Wren asked, staring at the floor.

“Because, as the official adult in your life right now, I want to answer your questions and I want to make sure you understand. No more of the bullshit insults or the mental breakdowns, okay? I want to talk this out,” Tony reached over and put his free hand on Wren’s shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. After a few seconds, he pulled away, leaving Wren’s skin much too cold. 

“How long did it take you to come up with all that?” Wren asked after a beat, his corners of his mouth tugging up to a small smile. He was extending an olive branch. 

“Well, it was mostly Pepper,” Tony admitted with a small chuckle, “And it took about six hours of talking, and arguing, before we finally agreed.”

Wren nodded but didn’t respond. Tony watched him carefully, one hand lax in its grip on his coffee. Questions buzzed in Wren’s head. One of his hands absentmindedly trailed to his pocket and pulled out Durago, his thumb rubbing circles on the energy layer. The familiar bond with his bey embraced him cordially.

Wren was afraid. It took a lot to genuinely scare him, more than the legal system, more than moving countries, and certainly more than finding out that he has a father. But he was scared. He was scared of losing his best friend. He was scared of losing his purpose in life. He was scared of losing the one thing that he was passionate about and the one thing that never ceased to bring him joy. He was scared of losing more of his already lost family. He was scared of being alone again. He knew that it was childish and he knew that there were more important things at hand, but all Wren could think about was beyblade.

“Are you really going to force me to quit beyblade?” Wren asked quietly, his hands visibly shaking. If Tony said yes, Wren’s entire life would change. He’d have to figure out how to sneak around to tournaments and how to train discreetly. He’s have to hide all of his bey stuff and he’d have to basically cut himself off from the beyblade world. Wren would still blade, it would just be harder.

“No, Daiichi,” Tony said, “We were never planning on taking it away from you.”

Wren let out the breath he was holding. Relief filled him and he could feel his eyes watering. “But Eric...?”

“See, this is what I mean when I say you don’t understand what’s happening,” Tony said, pointing his finger at Wren. “Eric didn’t say that you couldn’t do your beyblade thing, he just said that you should cut down on it a bit. He said that spending every waking moment thinking about beys and battling is unhealthy and that you should get more hobbies, socialize more, and focus on other things. And it’s not even all the time either. He just wants you to do other things sometimes. I had to learn how to do the same thing when I spent every waking moment obsessed with building Iron Man suits. It affected my relationships and my mental health so much that I had to stop. Granted, I don’t think blowing up your bey is the right way to go here but that’s not the point. No one is taking anything away from you, okay? You can battle and train and do whatever else until your heart’s content,”

Wren listened carefully, sipping on his coffee and taking bites of a chocolate bar that he’d found at the bottom of the snack pile. He bobbed his head as Tony spoke, soaking up each word. He didn’t have to quit beyblade. Dr. Edwards wasn’t a complete lunatic. He overreacted.

“Oh, that’s not as bad as I thought,” Wren mumbled around his chocolate bar. “But why did you bring me to America?”

“To avoid certain legal bullshit and so you didn’t have to spend any time in jail,” Tony answered, gaining Wren’s attention immediately. “If your case had stayed in Spain or gone to Japan, you’d have to stay within their custody which could lead to you staying in jail. I wasn’t about to take that chance and Pepper would’ve killed me if I did.”

Tony sighed and put down his mug. He leaned down, opened a drawer, and pulled out a beige file that Wren recognized as the one that Ms. Wilma had given him when Wren first arrived. The file slapped against the table as Tony tossed it to the side. “Kathryn- uh, Ms. Wilma said that you have a hearing with the judge on Wednesday,” he continued, “Court hearings aren’t as bad as actual trials. They’re usually just-“

“Pretrials to decide if the case should move on or if it should be dismissed,” Wren finished, nodding along. 

“You know how this court stuff works?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“No,” Wren quietly laughed, “I don’t really know anything about courts or laws, especially in America, but I have a friend who’s always been American at heart and he has a guilty pleasure for American law shows.”

“Huh, duly noted,” Tony grabbed his coffee and took a sip, “I’ve already hired an attorney to represent you and he’ll explain what’s going on regardless.”

“Do you- do you think,” Wren paused, “Do you think that I’ll win this case?” Wren’s voice was quiet and distant, as if his thoughts were miles away.

“I don’t know, kid,” Tony answered honestly, “We’ll push for dismissal and if the judge decides to go against it, we’ll just have to win the actual case. They have no case against you. A minor being tried for breaking laws that he didn’t know existed? There’s nothing there that would convince a jury to send a kid to jail.”

Wren sighed and slumped back in his seat. It wasn’t all that reassuring but it was enough to ease his mind a bit. As long as he didn’t go to jail, Wren didn’t really care about the outcome. 

“Oh, by the way,” Tony said, reaching back into the open drawer. He pulled out Wren’s flip phone and handed it over to the boy. “A flip phone? Seriously? You are so outdated that it hurts. You’ve wounded me, Daiichi- woah, hey, are you okay?”

While he’d been speaking, Wren opened the phone and saw that he had an unread message. Tears gathered in his eyes until he couldn’t hold them back. They streamed down his cheeks and fell on the table. After months of nothing, Wren finally had something. 

From Carmesí

nows not a good time  
will be there as soon as i can

Fri, Oct 14, 3:13 am


End file.
